


Hold Me

by Discessio



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Minor Spoilers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Slow Burn, alternative ending, seriously slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 75,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discessio/pseuds/Discessio
Summary: A retelling of Red Dead Redemption 2 but figuring in a romance with Charles, starting from friendship.I cannot write a good summary...Oh and Sadie and the boys have many adventures!Canon-divergence and some change in character deaths and storyline. Nothing major. As the story progresses there will be spoilers if you haven't got very far.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now right near the end, I am distraught, I cannot actually keep playing, so I keep myself busy with another save that is pre-TB Arthur. I can't deal. Micah's a piece of poo.
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd because we live by the way of the West.

The camp was glowing orange as the sun began to set. Another long day, Arthur sighed deeply. The run in with the Pinkerton’s when he was out with Jack scared him, if anything had happened to him...He swallowed down a gulp of beer as the chill, evening air reminded him to grab some stew before it’s too late. Pearson nodded at him, sensing Arthur’s anxiety from the deeply furrowed brow. Abigail had got it out of Jack and shared Arthur’s concerned expression as she stared into the fire; deaf to the pointless gossip the other women were sharing.  
Dutch was sat by the fire remonstrating about the politics that would see the end of outlaw culture, the others were in their close groups sharing stories and songs and letting Dutch rile them up. Arthur decided he couldn’t be near his General right now, Jack was lucky this time, but staying here could mean his life could be at risk again and everyone else’s. Grabbing his crumpled cigarette packet from his bed he treaded over to his Mare for some affection. She nuzzled him contently and he smiled, but knowingly reached into his pocket for the peppermint she was investigating. His eyelids fluttered shut at the first inhale of the tobacco and the gentle burn in his throat; listening to his beast crunching away; he felt momentarily at peace.  
“Got a match?” A deep, smooth voice interrupted the gentle quiet he’d been leaning into. Arthur flicked his eyes to Charles’s. Resting his cigarette in his lips and taking a drag while he reached into his shirt pocket and lit the match. Charles lent to accept the light and then lolled his head back and exhaled.  
“Not in the party mood n’either?” His voice slightly higher then usual, revealing Arthur already knew the answer. He knew Charles took his work seriously and didn’t have much time for Dutch’s rabble-rousing. Charles looked briefly at him, not very good at small talk he unconsciously noted.  
“Someone has to keep an eye out, especially as I heard there was a run in with the Pinkerton’s?” The other man nodded and stared at the grazing horses, “Plus I like the quiet of my own company, just like you I guess?”  
“I suppose, I mean I like to keep up ma’ journal, don’t fancy them girls clamberin’ on me for a peak” The corner of his mouth twitched and for a second both men nearly sensed a smile. “It’s not private in the way they thinkin’ jus’ don’t need my thoughts bein’ shared over mornin’ coffee, y’know?”  
Charles chuckled, “Yeah I know how it would go down! I saw the ribbing Mary-Beth got when they got hold of some of her romance novel or whatever it is she’s scribbling down behind that wagon.” They both smile remembering the crimson hue the poor girl wore as she radiated the heat of embarrassment. After a pause Arthur cleared his throat and scratched his horse, “Well I best get, holler if you see trouble,” gently slapping a hand on Charles’s shoulder as he sauntered off to his wagon to sleep. Yawning as he heard the rest of the camp slowly turning in for the night, a few bid him goodnight as they passed his cot. He grunted in acknowledgement. He struggled to nod off, frowning to himself he heard someone moving through the camp, just before he unsettled himself to have a look he heard Charles’s cough, somebody relieved him for the night. Next thing he knew he was waking up to the clattering and clunking of Pearson.

 

 

Sat round the make-shift table he sipped his coffee, letting the steam kiss his stubbled face. “Good morning Arthur” Mary-Beth stood by Pearson’s firepit as she blurted the greeting, suddenly staring at the coffee canteen with such intensity Arthur though it could explode.  
“No wonder you’re so behind on your work if you waste time staring like deer in lamplight!” Grimshaw smacked her on the back of her head. Poor Mary-Beth, going redder by the second, perhaps Arthur should take out his stopwatch and see how quickly it gets darker.  
“Don’t stare Arthur you know she’s embarrassed,” Tilly had sat on the box beside him and fanned herself despite the cool morning breeze. Arthur looked at her and quirked his eyebrow, “You know she’s sweet on you,” Tilly leaned into his space as she said this, he could feel her hunger for his reaction, likely more gossip for the girls later.  
“Well she needs to rethink herself if she’s chasin’ after a murderous outlaw who’s too old for her.” He said into his coffee, taking a gulp and licking his lips. It was Tilly now who raised an eyebrow. She pursed her lips and shrugged a shoulder. Clearly unhappy with the titbits he’d given her. A Crash off iron sounded to their right as the ever radiating Mary-Beth looked up from the pile of skillets and pans she’d disturbed whilst eavesdropping. Tilly sat back, aware suddenly she’d been in Arthur’s space. Arthur glanced between them and got up with a sigh and walked to his horse.  
He was tacking her up when he saw Charles grooming Taima amongst the other beasts. They looked at each other briefly and shared a smile. It was late afternoon when Arthur had returned from Valentine. He’d been following up on a lead about a jeweller who’d arrived to sell some of his wares to a young bride to be in the area and was staying in the hotel. He’d returned with money for the camp and a few fake items he’d also taken from the would-be conman. The girls were in their usual spot by the wagons, sewing, laundering and of course, gossiping. Mary-Beth had a book in her lap whilst she did her needle-work, completely blind to Karen showing Tilly how to swig beer using her cleavage instead of her hands. Her large breasts pushed together being the highlight of the trick she used often at the saloon. Made Sean’s jaw hit the ground so hard he could mine for gold. Tilly was snorting and trying the trick herself, she’d unbuttoned the top of her dress and was trying to squash her smaller bosom to do the same, sniggering as she sloshed beer over them both. Arthur coughed and nodded at the group. Tilly smiled and clasped a hand to cover herself, Mary-Beth looked up from her book doe-eyed and Karen jiggled her breasts; beer splashing; then looked up through her eyelashes at Arthur, “Would you like a sip Mr Morgan?” The flirtatious worlds trickled out her mouth like rough honey. Were Arthur younger he would’ve blushed.  
“No thanks Karen, never been a fan of lukewarm beer, plus I don’t have any spare change to tip ya” He teased. She scoffed playfully and took the bottle by her hand and swigged it, leaving her unbuttoned shirt to reveal, well not reveal anything the whole camp hadn’t already seen. “I’ve got a treat for y’all as you’ve not had much to enjoy these last weeks. I also remember you saying you needed something to replace the one you lost,” He looked toward Tilly indicating her chest, noticing her state of undress he turned around suddenly, “Jewellery, necklaces and whatnot...forgot to say.” He mumbled awkwardly producing the case of beautiful pieces, fake as they were they looked lovely and he knew the girls would appreciate them nonetheless. “Tilly gets first pick as she already asked me to pick up something. She’d buttoned herself up and examined the case and its contents, selecting a silver plated necklace with “Emeralds” dripping from the main chain. “Mr Morgan if you would be so kind” She twisted her back to him and swept the loose hairs away from her neck and glanced cheekily over her shoulder. Arthur let a short breath out through his teeth and he inwardly chuckled at her superiority. He bent over her to pull the jewellery up to her neck and started on the clasp as she beamed down at it, touching the pretty thing as the green reflected slightly on her skin.  
Karen had already helped herself to a few things and was mocking a woman of the upper-class with her chin exaggeratingly high, one hand stretched out adorned with rings. Mary-Beth had been sat watching the interaction between Tilly and Arthur with an obvious shade of jealousy. A green to match Tilly’s necklace, a difference to the usual ruby red. Arthur nudged the case and looked at the envious girl, “Not to your taste miss?” He mocked, gently but provoked another colour change. She indicated a necklace without properly looking at it and then looked up at Arthur expectantly.  
“Well if y’all are happy, let Miss Grimshaw have a look though I doubt she’ll be interested.” He left the case and wandered off to the supplies wagon leaving an exasperated Mary-Beth.  
Uncle and Bill were sat at the campsite fire sharing tales. “-can’t be much use in that slum-guzzling blatherskite, pirooting around the place, paintin’ nose with our gals, that rust-top is a poor excuse for an Irishman, can’t even handle ‘is scamper-juice!” Uncle complained to Bill, clearly not happy about the return of Sean. Arthur assumed that the issue was more the fact the younger man was getting between Karen’s thighs. Charles was sat at the fire sharpening arrows, he looked from Uncle to Arthur with a dumbfounded expression and shook his head humorously.  
“Uncle if you could speak proper for our friend here” Arthur jested, “Not everyone was dragged up through the frontier as you were!” He slumped down onto the log Charles was sat on with his arrows. “They been dulling you for long?” He assumed his usual mantel of offering and lighting the cigarettes between them.  
“It’s not so bad, I know they say some derogatory things about anyone who isn’t white, or a man for that matter, but I can’t understand most of what they say so I’m happy enough...Saw you over by the girls?” The last part he said slowly, the question’s true meaning revealing itself.  
“Not you too! I ain’t interested in our gals, I know where they’ve been for a start. Plus I like women who don’t work with their bodies, feels more real y’know?” He looked over at his friend. Are they friends? He guesses so, isn’t this the sort of thing you talk about with friends? He looked down momentarily and puffed on his cigarette.  
“I’m not that bothered, if the mood takes me I couldn’t care who she is, as long as she doesn’t cost too much and she does the job.” Charles spoke sincerely and flicked the ash off his smoke. “Have you got designs on anyone then?” He looked directly at Arthur. The late afternoon had been turning to evening as the air got cooler and tinted with pink. Just as he was about to answer a shout came from the camp entrance followed by a scream and more shouting. The men at the campsite stood immediately, except Uncle who was seemingly oblivious or didn’t care. Heads peered through tents as Arthur, followed by Charles went to investigate. Tilly was being led away from the woman’s wagon by Karen, her hair untidy and dress dishevelled, crying into Karen’s chest. Karen had an arm round her and was leading her to the edge of camp seemingly for some privacy. Arthur stepped toward them when Karen shook her head pointedly, Tilly didn’t look anywhere but the floor.  
Arthur looked at Charles who’s gaze was towards the women’s wagon where Miss Grimshaw was ragging Mary-Beth, Abigail had wondered over nosily and had rested a hand on the young girls back. Miss Grimshaw threw her hands in the air and went to head for her tent when her eyes caught the men staring. “Yes?!” She shouted to all of them, “If you all kept to yourself and left these girls alone perhaps they wouldn’t be scrapping like wild dogs and doing work instead of daydreaming!” Arthur looked back to Uncle and Bill who were smirking at Miss Grimshaw’s outburst and shrugged his shoulders. That night Mary-Beth shared Abigail and Jack’s tent. Arthur and Charles rode out the next morning, the atmosphere in the camp was unpleasant. Arthur didn’t want to get involved but he wasn’t naïve, he knew Mary-Beth had taken a fancy to him. He was no fancyman and he certainly wasn’t the kind of man she wrote about in her romance novels. They rode in silence, mostly silence, Arthur murmured songs under his breath to comfort his mare and Charles occasionally hummed along to the bits he knew. They came up on a herd of deer, quietly grazing ignorant to the hunters overlooking in the brush a bit away from them. Hand signals ordered them both into positions, the silence was back, complimented only slightly by the brush of wood on wood as both men aimed their bows at two strong stags. They’d loaded the carcasses on their horses and sat for a moment revelling in how smooth the hunt was. Soundless understanding. Arthur had never enjoyed such a simple peace between another person. He was wary of Charles in the beginning, a large man that wasn’t overly fussed about the money and more interested in the warm meals and protection. Arthur suspiciously studied the new man, could he be a mole, could he be a Pinkerton spy? He’d dropped that after Charles had already covered him in gunfire saving his life within his first week. He’d warmed to him, similar in age and both quite reserved, they got on better then anyone else Arthur knew in the camp. Beside Hosea. He was different, but he was family, he loved him.  
“Arthur?” Charles had his head cocked in question. Arthur grunted in response.  
“M’sorry, got lost in ma’ thoughts for a second there.” They were both sat on the ground, Arthur leaning forward resting his arms on his bent legs. One foot shuffled in the dirt, tempting Charles to prompt him for conversation.  
“I’m all ears if you need to talk? I’m not the best at talking back but I can listen. I’m no Tilly but I won’t gossip,” He offered. Getting personal felt like gambling, Arthur would either talk or shut off perhaps for the whole day.  
“Its just all this nonsense with Mary-Beth, it reminded me of Eliza and what with Jack followin’ me around...” He sighed “Reminds me of what I’ve loved and lost and that I’m not good enough for any Lady out there and I’m not in’tah our gals, they’re silly young things and probably riddled.” He looked to Charles who didn’t move or even blink. Charles was in hunt mode, trying not to startle Arthur, afraid he would shut himself out. Afraid he would flee. “I just don’t think there’ll be another love in my life, at least I’d had Eliza and m’boy – Isaac.” He put his head in his hands. Charles blinked and breathed slowly, he looked up as Arthur sniffed behind his hands. “I just want...” Arthur quietly cried to himself. It was brief but it was the most human Charles had ever seen the man. Astounded by his honesty, he picked up the packet of cigarettes on the ground beside Arthur and handed him one, lighting a match and holding it out for him. The outlaw accepted and once lit, stood up and shook of his emotions and coughed a gruff sound before fingering his braces back into a comfortable position.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll be updating again tomorrow. Not only is it a slow burn but y'all have to wait a day for the next addition. so sorry.

Back at the camp everyone was keeping themselves busy waiting for lunch, Pearson had decided to wait for their return to make something better then rabbit and squirrel stew. Karen was posing in front of Arthur’s shaving mirror, her lips a vigorous shade of purple, she looked enamoured by her own reflection.  
“I don’t believe I booked a home visit?” He growled gently, he didn’t want to have to endure any more drama from the girls so Karen was an unwelcome visitor to his wagon.  
“Don’t’ worry I’m not interested in getting in your little ménage à troi” She giggled, “That’s French for when ya fuck two bitches at once!” She crudely spat out. Arthur frowned,  
“Is this what this crap between Mary-Beth and Tilly I-“  
“Mary thinks you wanna frolic in the hay with our dearest Tilly.” Her eyebrows where so high up her forehead Arthur thought they’d join together and fly away. He wished they did and they’d take him with them.  
“I- Uhm, What? I don’t go for girls like that, you know this Karen” He said sternly remembering the blonde curls following him everywhere. Only stopped when he saw her through the bulrushes while he bathed in the river near the camp.  
Picking up on his meaning Karen gracelessly removed herself, ruffling her skirts at him as she walked backwards, showing the tops of her bloomers by her knees.  
That evening they all sat round the fire and at the table dining together, the word about the deer Charles and Arthur had brought back had clearly spread. Mary-Beth seemed to of cheered up and Tilly as she even sat a persons distance away from her. Perhaps peace had been resumed at the camp. Dutch handed beers round, riding off everyone’s high about the stew, he gave a speech about how they were making it. Conversation tickled the air around the glowing fire at the centre of the group. Charles and Arthur were sat beside each other both complimenting Pearson on not ruining their catch. Uncle even chimed in, “We must be making it Dutch, even the grease-belly’s getting a better mind for this cookin’ now!” Everyone smiled and Pearson stood and bowed, his belly stopping him from getting too low. “With all these Lincoln skins coming in we’s getting better habits,” Uncle continued, “Got ma’ new beetle-crushers and even Tilly’s got hersel’ a fancy neck, next will be a ring ay? Unless ya’ give ‘im the mitten?” He chortled to himself. No one understood most of what he said but it was pretty clear this time. At the awkward silence he followed with, “Well this is a bag ‘o’ nails ain’t it. Didn’t mean ta’ raise no sand. Me and ma wobblin’ jaw gone put a hair in the butter.”  
Mary-Beth sat fanning herself smugly “Uncle you mind yourself now, Arthur prefers to handle pearl over rosewood.” She cast her eyes to him. Uncle looked confused. A true role reversal.  
“You better not be saying what I think you’re saying girl!” Tilly threatened, standing up suddenly.  
Mary-Beth stood up to face her, “You heard me, no amount of scrubbing is gonna make Arthur fancy y-“ She was cut off by a crack as Tilly’s hand strikes her face.  
Arthur, fed up of this ridiculous game, “I don’t fancy neither of ya’s! You’re our gals, ma’ sisters! Now quit bickerin’ and fix it between ya’s or else I ain’t speakin’ to either of you!  
Tilly looked upset but not by what Arthur had said, she looked at Mary-Beth who looked stunned. Karen leaned to see both their faces, chewing on a piece of taffy she spoke round the sweet, “I could’ve told you this, when I said he ain’t likin’ that kinda’ girl I meant as in a lady of the night,” She was covering herself knowing full well she’d stirred this up to boil. “Shame none of us will ever get our withers broken in by that great beast he’s hiding in those breeches, was looking forward to those details,” with that she walked away swaying her skirts and looking for Sean, her work here done.  
Mary-Beth ran off to cry and Tilly went to comfort her. Dutch led Molly away at the mention of whatever may or may not be in Arthur’s breeches. Abigail grinned and left. Javier, Bill, Uncle stared awkwardly at Arthur. It was only at that point he remembered and thanked God that Micah was away, he would’ve loved this.  
“Well that was all pointless,” Charles’s damn sensible voice fills the silence. “Well I think after that I need to turn in.” He started to stretch and went to the edge of camp for a smoke before bed. Uncle looked at Bill wide-eyed, “Please tell me I wasn’t the only sucker who didn’t understan’ a word ‘o’ that?!” Bill chuckled.  
“Come on ‘ole man, lets get.” Arthur sat at the campsite alone. He was feeling lonely and didn’t need that bullcrap to remind him. He rubbed his face roughly with his hands, he really needed to sleep but he knew he’d be up thinking if he went to bed now. Charles was walking back and Arthur called him to join him for a cigarette. He thought he’d decline as he’d just been smoking, but perhaps he wanted the company alone with him. “Just wanna say that I don’t have a thing about skin, I know Bill riles Lenny and Javier and Probably you now, but that ain’t me, skin doesn’t define who I sleep with.”  
Charles looked at Arthur’s desperate eyes, reflecting the flickering flames. Reflecting the pain of his loneliness. “Well that’s good to know, doesn’t mean you can sleep with me!” He joked, but he stopped chuckling, something felt odd about that comment. He quickly grinned up at Arthur to divert the man’s attention from his pause. He noticed, there was a look in those blue eyes, he doesn’t know he’s looking at me like that, Charles thinks to himself. They sit and stare. Arthur’s wide eyes, full of confusion and tiredness. Charles playfully bumps his shoulder to wake them both from their reverie. They split off to get some sleep.  
Arthur was right, he led there, staring at the canvas tent. Wishing he could sleep under the stars, then his thoughts wouldn’t be trapped under the tent, they could float away and leave him with a blank slate to move on with. He thought about his Mary, how he’d given himself to her fully, full with his emotions and his heart, they never shared anything more physical past a kiss. That kiss had filled him with hope for the love he’d lost when his parents gave up on themselves. Surely like his parents, she broke down the walls while he wandered wantonly and robbed his heart of every last smile. He’d given up after that. Bad day after bad day followed. A week, turned to a month and he’d heard of the wedding. Her wedding night. That man was laying her down on the bed and taking her far from his reach. He went to the saloon that night, got drunk and poured his soul to an obliging waitress. She made him laugh that night, he went to book a room for the night but realised he’d overspent.  
She kindly offered him to sleep in her lodgings, she whispered as she finished her shift and shared a cigarette with her new friend, Arthur began to sober as they arrived at her home. Her roommate was off courting her man that night and so Eliza, the waitress, offered her bed to Arthur and said she’d sleep in her friend’s. This went to plan until she’d heard his tears in the early morning. Her body soft through her nightdress, hungry for company and closeness, they lay together. Then he remembered Isaac, born the summer after, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He closes his eyes as he remembers the delicate skin and the flailing limbs. A red mouth all gums, wailing for the first time. Arthur had heard and not seen until right after. He felt the tear roll down his face. Charles is in his head and they’re sitting watching deer. He was taken from his grief by the cringing in his stomach, he’d assured Charles he’d sleep with him regardless of skin. What a silly mistake with his words. He smiled forcing another tear down his cheek. The cringe in his stomach untwisted into something warm. The heat in his belly took him back to that night with Eliza, running his hands on soft skin under thin material, but the skin his textured. The material is starched and frayed, the hair that tickles his face smells of leather and smoke. He runs his hands over the body leaning over him, a muscular frame, moving his hands round the lining of the pants. The pants. Arthurs eyes flick open as he breathes in sharply, his forehead feels moist with little beads of sweat.  
He feels the sweat between his legs and the blanket feels heavy. The camp is lit up gently by the morning sun. How long was he dreaming of, of him. Arthur swung himself of his bed and went to his mare. She ignored his nudges, still asleep and not used to her riders early waking’s. She obliged eventually as he took her on a slow ride down to the river. He’d bought some dry clothes as his were damp and would smell worse then they might already of. He didn’t want anyone to know, maybe he can wash his inclinations away with his sweat. Stripping off was a relief as he stepped into the cool river. The intake of breath and all of his hairs on end assured him he wouldn’t be going back to bed.  
He scrubbed at his clothes for a moment before deciding he’d leave them for the women. They won’t be able to siphon the secrets from his clothes. He waded further out so the water was up to his navel. He thought about Charles finding his empty bed, his eyes fluttered shut as he was drawn back to his mind, where Charles lay in his bed. Thick brown thighs. The curve leading up to his ass and another curve to his rippling back. So much power under that gentle posturing. Charles turns and Arthur can almost feel the downy black hair that covers his chest and dances in a circle round his belly-button, dancing down to darkened skin. To parts of Charles that were stiffened by the blood that pumps through his powerful frame. He lies there, legs opened and relaxed, his balls contracting, running a hand down his dark skin he reaches down to relieve the strained lust between his thighs.  
“Arthur?!” Arthur lets go of himself and hopes to God no one saw. His face must be a picture. Charles stands on the edge of the river, Taima’s reigns in his hand, a look of concern over his face.  
“Jus’ pissin!” Arthur shouts back. Damning himself, Charles wouldn’t say anything, living with a bunch of men you see things.  
“Alright then Arthur,” His voice tinges with sarcasm as he leads Taima back up the bank toward camp. Arthur quickly glances and sees the haul of fish on his shoulder. So he didn’t see the empty bed and come looking, why would he? Arthur chides himself internally, Charles might not be weakened by the same sin that’s taken him. He relaxes and scrubs a little, albeit for a short second as he realises that Charles was most likely fishing close-by. Maybe he saw, that’s not so bad he didn’t know what he was thinking about. Maybe he watched. Arthur felt the urge to finished what he started.  
He looked around sheepishly when he arrived back at camp, everyone was busy with their coffee, he hadn’t said anything then. Charles raised a cup from Pearson’s fire to encourage Arthur to come over.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised this yesterday, no more promises from me! Can't stop thinking about these two uggghhhhhh.

Arthur drank the coffee slowly. The monotony of his morning routine broken by the close company of his friend. Charles was descaling the fish at the table much to Miss Grimshaw’s disgust. He would look up frequently at Arthur, who sometimes would return the glance and they’d catch each other and smile. Javier who was also sat with them stared hard at them both. Smiling Arthur turned from Charles’s face and caught the strained expression on Javier’s face. His smile ran away with the steam from his mug, he was about to get up when Dutch wandered over spouting about some mission to rob a stagecoach with a politician in as part of a ransom exchange. He would need Charles’s stealthy long range skills and Arthur’s hard offensive talents. Dutch put John with them to add to their strength.  
*******************************************  
The stagecoach pulled swiftly across the dirt ground, billowing orange clouds circled around the wheels. They followed the coach until the large white horses were pulled to a slow trot. Snorting and throwing their heads. A group appeared slowing toward the beasts. Arthur and John shared a look, there were five on horseback, one dismounted and removed a large sack from the back of his nag. They all grunted in acknowledgement, this was what they’d come for. The ransom was going as planned, once the switch was made they’d follow the money until an opportunity arose to take it without intervention. “This is easier then I remember it being,” John mused in disbelief. Just as the coach driver was returning to his perch the sound of hooves thundering and whistles cut across wind.  
“You were saying?” Charles huffed, somehow John always brings the bad luck with him, “Looks like we weren’t the only ones with the info.” The group were too large to take and so they watched to see an opening. The ground, a mix of green, grey and reddish-brown as the slaughter stains the earth. They split off and Dutch’s boys make a run for their horses. Hooves and legs stretching as the riders spur the horses on full pelt. Arthur’s horse’s spit frothing around her bit, sweat and foam flying past him as he pursues the rider with the money. Charles gallops behind in a more controlled pace and swiftly shoots an arrow to another rider nearby. Arthur pulls up close to his prey, not wanting to shoot him off his horse in case the money scatters with the wind if dropped. One arm stretched forward guiding his horse, his Scofield resting over the crook, his brow pulled down focusing on the other man. He threatens him through the bandana. Unable to hear him or just plain reckless, the rider pulls his own gun pointing it back at Arthur and then at his horse.  
The shot echoes through the pass they gallop through. Arthur hears the second shot ring out and a scream of pain. His horse bucks and panics as blood pours from it’s lower neck, taken by surprise, Arthur is flung from the saddle. His spurs getting caught in the stirrup, the frightened mare bolts, the adrenaline from her injury pushing her to flee. As he’s dragged through the pass he feels his skin cutting on the hard ground, trying to lift his head to free his foot, a hoof flies back and catches him in the groin. His skin suddenly stops scraping on the floor as his mare drops to the ground, twitching momentarily before passing. Charles and John are quick to his side, “Why didn’t ya shoot the damn horse?!” He spat a hand clasped to the inside of the top of his thigh, “Damn near fuckin’ killed me!” There was pain in his ankle too, he dared a look but it was pointing in the right direction. That was a good sign.  
“We should get outta here,” John was already back on Old Boy and was carrying the sack, eyes alert and scanning for more enemies, “Can you move?” He looked more concerned for the money then Arthur. Charles sensing this told him to ride ahead, they would be behind after he’d checked Arthurs ankle and back. He was aware of the outlaws hand clasped to his crotch, but would broach that subject when they moved somewhere safe.  
“Here girl” Whistling over his horse. He helped Arthur up onto her. He winced as he sat down on the saddle. Charles led his friend and his horse away from the pass toward a copse of trees. Setting up a fire and laying out his bedroll; he helped Arthur off the horse and down onto the padded blanket; grabbing some things from the saddle bags he watched as Arthur removed his shirt. The skin of his back was torn and starting to bruise in large dark blotches. A quick rub of whisky and some honey to cover before sticking wadding over the cuts, Arthur redressed as Charles made short work of his boot, there was bruising around his ankle and it was swelling, best to leave the boot off for now. “I think we should let it rest, I would of suggested camping out but whoever those guys were they’ll be looking for their men and then the lawmen will be looking for that politician also, we’d be safer on the road.”  
Arthur wasn’t really listening, where his mare had kicked him was pulsing pain, he felt something warm and wet making the area around his bollocks sticky. “I ain’t arguin’ today Charles.” Allowing the man to manhandle him onto the horse. Charles seated himself behind him, urging Taima on who resisted the weight a moment but then bowed to her rider’s command. Perhaps sensing the seriousness of the situation Charles’s mused to himself, worried for his friend he pushed her on at a slow canter.  
When they arrived Miss Grimshaw and Pearson were waiting for them. Looking at the wooden splints and bandages, Charles looked to the camp cook, “It’s not broken, maybe sprained?” Hosea came from the side of camp and helped support Arthur to his cot. Bedrest to elevate his ankle and guarding from his camp Father was seeing to a very painfully dull week. Micah came by his cot and slapped his ankle before sauntering off. Arthur promised to remember to kill him when he got the chance. The girls were really sweet but irritating. Even Jack playing on the floor beside him didn’t cheer him up. He was washing in the river when he examined the gash where his thigh met his groin. Once purple, swollen and stinging; now throbbing and yellowish-green. He frowned and took an intake of breath as he tried to clean the wound, it seemed to be getting worse, Arthur bit his lip and washed through the pain. It will eventually get better, he thought. Charles’s eyes followed Arthur as he made his way to the women’s wagon to dispatch his dirty clothes.  
“Hey Morgan!” He shouted, throwing his head up as he did so, as if to put more force in his greeting.  
“What do you want Mr Smith” He shouted in response, back turned to Charles as he holstered his weapons and strapped on his bandolier, “It better be an offer to get outta this prison of mine.” He turned and smirked at Charles.  
“Absolutely, I wouldn’t pull you away from your leisure time for nothing else.” Dripping with sarcasm, Charles started toward Taima, knowing full well Arthur was desperate to escape. His ankle had recovered considerably, enough to ride safely. Arthur had been lent Branwen by Kieran who had began to protest at first and upon seeing the fierce cerulean through the man’s eyelashes changed his mind rather suddenly. They rode out together, the buzz from the morning coffee giving them both an excitable vibe about the outing. They would be tracking down a man who’d been conning people into ‘insuring’ their properties to his 'company' and then said properties and their owners would then conveniently burn to the ground leaving the funds to return to the con-artist. An intelligent scheme, but horrid and nothing short of what Strauss is capable of if he’d thought of it first. Once they’d caught up with them, a whole day’s riding, they continued to the nearest homestead along the same direction.  
Charles did the talking, convincing the cattle farmer of the incoming threat. Arthur had grumbled about just killing him and then being done with it, but this was a private bounty with a great reward and Dutch had insisted on no violence being used. Trelawney had roped them into some nonsense between rich men. They needed this man alive for all the money he had stashed and they needed somewhere hidden away to catch and question him before taking him to their temporary bosses.  
The farmer and his wife relented when Charles gathered some dog-eared newspaper clippings documenting the terrible tragedies. The barn the couple had directed them to was noisy and stunk strongly of the goats at the back, Branwen and Taima munched hay happily, enjoying the rare hospitality on the mission. Charles and Arthur had accepted a meal of beans and bread from the farmer’s wife and were led on their bedrolls about a metre apart. Arthur stared at Charles, gently snoring as he slowly nodded off, hay stuck in the black mess of hair. He had one arm under his pillow and the other bent cuddling it to his face. He blinked and realised how loud he was breathing whilst watching his friend sleep, why was he so fascinated. Was this the sin creeping back?  
“I can feel your tension from here.” Thick with drowsiness, the ‘sleeping’ man’s voice murmured into the pillow by his face. Arthur felt hot as he realised he’d been caught staring. He felt impolite and embarrassed. The other man clearly thought nothing of it as he rolled over and started snoring again.  
“Jus’ not comfortable bein’ in here, feels wrong.” He was satisfied by that, could even convince himself that was why he was feeling so jittery.  
The plan worked surprisingly well, he was a snivelling coward of a man and surrendered easily, the family thanked them profusely and the farmer’s wife thanked Charles with a kiss to the cheek and a sparkle in her eye. After dropping him off the criminal at his final destination the two men began to head back, the sun was setting and they had a lot of road to cover and the horses were tired from a long, couple days of riding.  
“I reckon I could sneak back and take that woman in that barn if I wanted to.” Charles said smugly as their horses plodded slowly side-by-side.  
A very different side to Charles that Arthur was used to. He felt slightly bitter about that comment, he wrote it down to his lack of physical intimacy for such a long time.  
“Well you’ve still got some daylight, what’s stoppin’ ya? He retorted tightly.  
The smirk left Charles’s face, sensing his friends jealousy, “I wouldn’t do that, you know that’s not me, besides; that would leave you with the farmer!” Chuckling lightly, turning his face to see if he’d cheered up the outlaw.  
“I don’t really know you Charles, you’re quite the mystery man,” Sensing the apprehension in Charles he joked, “wait...what if I wanted the farmer anyway?” They both laughed.  
“That’s definitely not you! But seriously, for a second, I wouldn’t leave you for anything Arthur. We’re brothers.” Reaching a hand out between them, Arthur slapped his hand across Charles’s and clasped it strongly for a second.  
“Yeah, brothers.” He felt a strong warmth after that, it also made him feel wrong. Brother’s don’t think about each other the way he thinks.  
As the sky began to darken Arthur suggested making camp, he could of carried on but his injury was causing him discomfort he could no longer ignore, made worse by the saddle. He knew also that if another gang tried to rob them or if they ran into the law, that the galloping escape would be agony. Charles started the fire and was beginning to prepare the rabbits they’d caught on the way. The horses were happily grazing, glad to have the cool air on their bare backs. Arthur leaned back against his saddle gentle stretching his legs, trying to ignore the stinging and pulsing that followed.  
“You’re hurting.” Charles looked calm but concerned, “I knew that horse had got you, that blood was yours.” He moved toward Arthur who flinched.  
“S’nothin to worry about, all things heal in their own goddamn time.” He pulled his flask from his satchel and swigged the neat whiskey. It was warm and felt unpleasant in his mouth, swallowing he looked at Charles. “I’m fine, leave me be.” He stared from under the brim of his hat, the same stern look that robbed shopkeepers and kept Sean away from his wagon in the morning.  
It wasn’t going to keep Charles away though. “You’re sweating, it’s been over a week now Arthur, if it’s not healed or being treated properly it’s most likely infected. You could lose your leg, or worse the surrounding parts or worse yet, you could die.” Arthur rolled his eyes, but he saw the sincerity in his friend’s face.  
“So what do you suggest?”  
“Let me take a look.”  
“You don’t nee-...jus’ tell me, lemme do it, jus’ tell me what I need to do.”  
“I can’t do that without seeing the wound. Why won’t you let me see? Is it...oh.” Realising perhaps Arthur is being guarded out of modesty or shyness. “We’re both men Arthur, there’s nothing you have that I don’t have.” Feeling slightly reassured, Arthur let his shoulders drop.  
“Jus’ wouldn’t want you to feel put out when you see what I've got is all,” He tried to fight his anxiety with humour. What if his body betrayed him, what if Charles had to touch him, anyone else wouldn’t be a problem. Curse this sin, I’d rather die of sepsis, Arthur thought to himself.  
“Ha ha, don’t worry, I’m happy enough and so are the women.” That last part stinging Arthur again. Charles was next to Arthur and looked at the buttons at the top of his breeches. So much fever and nervousness poured out of the injured man he was worried he might drown. Charles grabbed the flask and urged Arthur to drink, but pulled it off him quickly as it was being gulped down at a fast rate. “Hey you’re going to need this to clean the wound! You’ll just have to be brave.” Through the humour Arthur felt a strong reassurance.  
“Wait. What if people ride past, we could get lynched...if they thought...that we-“  
“I know what you mean, well we’ll just have to show them too I guess, you’re not getting out of this Mr Morgan!” He undid Arthur’s first button.  
“Ya’know ma hands still work Charles.” Swatting his hands away and making short work of the buttons. He started on the suspenders and winced as he twisted to pull them off his shoulders. He noticed Charles’s hands twitch. He knew there wouldn’t be this kind of nonsense with anyone else. He felt his body wanted to be touched and so he was doing everything to avoid it.


	4. Chapter Four

Charles helped Arthur with his breeches and then cut into his union suit. Mindful that a quick escape from robbers would be better with clothes on then without. The gash was indeed infected, Charles flinched from the smell, he routed in his satchel pulling out a clean shirt and ripping off the sleeve. Whiskey and wadding at the ready he glanced at Arthur who was already bracing himself.  
His body jerked as Charles began to pour and dab, trying to get the pus out the wound, not wanting to hurt him but having to push in to get it all. Rinsed again with the whiskey he stared at it. Arthur, feeling self conscious cupped himself, he was still mostly tucked into the part of his union suit that wasn’t cut. “Said you would be put out by it,” He joked through a grimace.  
“I don’t know if I might need to stitch it or if it’s been too long.” He furrowed his brow and scratched his chin. Despite the time elapsed it was still raw and open. “Yeah I’ll stitch it, if that’s okay?”  
“I can feel your breath on my dick, I think we’ve moved past the parts that I’m not okay with don’t ya think?” Still holding himself he was staring up at the stars. He had calmed down quite a bit but felt clammy and sweaty. His breathing had been erratic but he’d put that down to Charles proximity, he felt the fever setting in. “Charles I don’t feel so good.”  
He looked up at Arthur and took note of the colour gone from the man’s face. Reaching up and touching his forehead he pulled his hand back quickly. “Jesus Morgan, now do you see how serious this is?!” He panicked as there was no getting Arthur on a horse and he couldn’t leave him like this. He stood up looking down at this weak friend and nodded his head. He would have to manage the fever and hope he got through the night alright enough that he could get him home at first light.  
He stitched and dressed the wound after another whiskey rinse. Setting up the tent and wrapping Arthur up enough to keep him cool enough he didn’t convulse. After vomiting a few times, exhaustion took the weary man to slumber and Charles sat outside on his bedroll. He would guard them both, they were reasonably hidden within the trees but timing would be everything if they were jumped. After a couple of hours Charles had led down to rest his body, assured they were safe and that no one would get them at this time. The hot sun seemed like a distant memory in the evening chill, the wind blew and despite his thick coat, Charles was fighting to keep warm.  
He woke, having nodded off not too long ago, to the sound of groaning from the tent, Charles crawled through the canvas to find Arthur stuttering as his body shivered violently. “Charles” He called out weakly, eyes tight shut but awake, “Charles am I dying?”  
“No you’re just hitting the fever peak,” Charles was worried, he reached out and felt his friend’s skin, “You’ve cooled down some but you’re still sweating it out. I think you’ll be okay” He wasn’t sure and he knew it had slipped through in his voice.  
“I-I I’m s-s-so c-c-c...cold.” His teeth clattering as he tried to speak. “I a-a-a always-s n-n-knew I’d d-die c-c-cold a...a-and alone” Charles stared at him, he felt awful, knowing there was nothing to do but help him rest.  
“H-h-hold m-m-me ch-ch-Charles” He was led curled up holding tightly to his blanket. The other man hadn’t stopped staring. He took a moment before deciding to hold his friend. If he did die he wouldn’t forgive himself. He led next to Arthur and reached an arm across and rested his hand on the side of his chest over the blanket, looking at his back and watching the shivering lessen slightly. His eyelids kept dropping, the warmth of the tent and tiredness getting the better of him. He was momentarily drawn back to wakefulness as Arthur shifted backwards tucked into Charles’s warmth. He flopped his head back down and soon they both were asleep, safe from the sharp winds outside.  
Waking up close together, Charles’s eyes flickered open, to the bright morning sun bursting through the folds of the tent. Arthur was still and breathing deeply. He could feel his steady warmth and sighed with relief. He knew he’d be okay but nevertheless it was unpleasant to see such a strong man suffering and weak. Arthur woke up slowly and noticing Charles’s arm over him, sat up quickly, instantly regretting the movement and clasping a hand to his head.  
“What are you doing here?” He was confused, he searched for his water canteen and took messy gulps soaking his shirt collar, rivulets of water running from his beard down his neck. Charles swallowed dryly, reaching out for the canteen when Arthur was finished.  
“During your fever you asked not to be alone. You asked me to hold you.” Charles said sincerely. He didn’t sense anything wrong with the friendly act. He knew all to well that fever-dreams were real and with the behaviour Arthur had been exhibiting up to the injury he wasn’t surprised that his deep insecurities came out.  
“I wouldn’t of said that Charles, is that what you think of me? I ain’t sick like that.” After tearing down camp he feebly pulled himself up onto Branwen, “Next time bring your own tent.” He lit a cigarette and waited for Charles to mount Taima. They rode quietly, Charles was confused by the rejection and Arthur glared at his mare’s head bobbing slowly in time with her hooves.  
Why did he snap at Charles? What if he doesn’t want to hunt with me again? Why did he draw attention to something that could of easily of been shrugged off? Would biting at Charles show his weakness? His lip stung as the raw flesh was exposed from the anxious nibbling. When they got to camp Arthur stalled untacking Branwen to see if his friend would speak to him, would use his calm reason to make sense of his own behaviour. To see if they were even still friends. The other man looked terse as he brushed down Taima and when he was done, got a bowl of stew and took himself to the edge of camp. Getting the message, Arthur waited until he was out of view before getting a bowl for himself and settled down by the fire, letting the mundane conversation of the others swill round his head.  
Tilly touched his arm gently and looked at him intensely, she leant her forward and looked up into Arthur’s eyes, “What’s going on with you? This goes beyond the Blackwater debacle doesn’t it?” Since her and Mary-Beth’s fight they’d gotten closer, Tilly even getting elocution lessons from her friend.  
“Tilly if I knew I woulda done somethin’ bout’ it by now” He didn’t respond to her further prodding and she eventually relented and left.  
His bed called to him, he was drained from the fever and he knew from his clammy skin that he still needed the rest.  
Curled up in his blankets he breathed in the comforting smell of home. He couldn’t remember Charles’s body pressed against his, holding him through the night, he knew though that he’d pleaded for the comfort. He decided there was something wrong with him and he needed to stay away from Charles. For the first time he felt a slight smidgeon of empathy for the Reverend. It’s so wrong but good God it pulls his whole body along. Goddamn Charles.

 

A few weeks passed and they had moved camp to Clemen’s Point and they were all in a period of adjustment again. Molly threw tantrums daily, thinking she was above the others and desiring everything that was the opposite to outlaw life. Feeling the pressure, Dutch would ride out with Trelawney often looking for schemes with large pay-outs. The others did their usual work, Bill and Uncle taking the girls out to whore and drinking a portion of their profits and trying to gamble. Unsuccessfully. Charles was out hunting regularly and Arthur went out robbing and hustling with John. After another O’Shea/Van Der Linde performance, Dutch, Strauss and Trelawney huddled together and Hosea circled them every now and then absorbing enough information without hearing the gory details.  
“Seeing as I have you all gathered here,” Dutch cleared his throat, “We’ve got a big job coming up. A big house by Lemoyne, the residence of Mr and Mrs Peeves-Sibley, the wealthy proprietors of a plantation and avid collectors of finery. We have acquainted ourselves with Mr Peeves-Sibley, unfortunately a close friend of the sheriff of Rhodes. Our plan is to rob the house right under their noses.” He looked out to see the reaction of the gang who awaited another impossible instruction from their ever-delusional leader. “We have arranged a hunting trip with Mr Peeves-Sibley, Josiah and our dear Strauss." There was nothing dear about Strauss, Arthur thought, "His wife will remain home, she is far young and naive. Oh and is rumoured to be a bit of a...loose romantic we shall say.” The women looked over their fans, feigning nonchalance despite the fizzy excitement of that last detail. “We have construed a plan, Hosea will accost the Lady of the house with pushy advertising for his ailment cures. The pressure should put her in distress, then Charles, Micah and John, we’ll need you to come behind Hosea and pull your guns on her and demand her money and wares. We’ll need you on this one girls” This was met with joy, “there’ll of course be a reasonable staff left to manage the house and so you and Javier, Sean and Lenny need to ‘occupy’ anyone who might bare witness to the crime. Arthur you come in here and save the day. Try and encourage her to take some air or offer to take her to friends or family. You’ll think of something. While she’s distracted we’ll ransack the house. The Sheriff will not have any reason to suspect us and it should keep us ingratiated with the local law.”  
That seemed like a reasonable plan, Arthur thought to himself, although Micah and Sean were coming which left plenty of room for massive error.  
“Arthur and Hosea are taking the lead on this, do as they say, if you mess this up there will be severe consequences.” Dutch’s eyes lingered on Micah. “Me, Josiah and Strauss will head out tomorrow morning, you’re to go out on the late afternoon. At this time most of the servants will probably be slacking now their boss has left. If the cat’s away – the mice will play.” He finished his commands brief with a look toward Molly to see her approval.  
“What about me? You can’t be expecting me to take part in such disgusting behaviour as the other girls?” Her temper flaring red and hot like the wiry mane that framed her white face.  
“You my dear, will be in charge of the camp, you’ll have Susan, Abigail, Pearson and young Jack of course. Oh and our Reverend Swanson too.” To that she crossed her arms and huffed, storming toward her tent.  
“We all have our jobs now rest up and make sure you’re ready for tomorrow’s excitement.” Hosea said, giving leave for Dutch to chase his woman.  
The next day three horses left early, the plan was in motion. They all saddled up and those that didn’t have a ride sat in the wagon being driven by Bill and Uncle, they were in charge of getting the women there and getting away with the valuables.  
Arthur didn’t speak on the ride there. They all dismounted near the remote house, all but Hosea, Charles, Micah, Sean and Arthur. Arthur hung back watching the plan unfold. A servant answered the door and summoned the mistress of the house. A rosy, dark-haired woman, she greeted Hosea with a smile and listened graciously. Moments passed and she started to fidget and politely declined Hosea his wares. The three assailers appeared from the sides of the house guns out front, Hosea brandishing his revolver when they surrounded the woman who started to scream but was silenced by Hosea’s threats.  
Arthur kicked his horse and galloped from the groups hidden spot to just short of the front door. Karen and the others had already sorted the staff issue while Hosea spoke alone. Two casualties, but a necessary thing, the payout would be worth the death. He pointed his rifle at his friends, “Whose life is worth a few bits of jewellery? I could shoot your horses and then the law could always catch you?” Hosea and his team held their hands up but didn’t step away. Arthur pulled out his pistol and shot at Micah’s feet. “Is it worth two lives? I’d soon catch you old man.”  
Hosea nodded his head towards the other men and they holstered their weapons, “No need my friend, we’ll be taking our leave now. Ma’am,” he tipped his hat toward her and walked backwards toward his horse, the other’s following suit. As they started to gallop away, Arthur shot again in the space around Micah,  
“And don’t come back ya filthy bastards.” He watched them disappear down the road then hopped off his new horse and strode up to the door where the woman stood frozen. “M’Lady,” Arthur reached a hand out, head bowed slightly, she placed her hand in his and he pressed a chaste kiss on her fingers. The ransackers waited in the trees watching, the girls staring on as if they were at the shows.  
“Oh you kind man! I think you just saved my life! Please come in, I must reward you for your bravery,” She flirted brazenly with him, “how about some cake and fresh lemonade to go with your reward?” She led him in and closed the door, calling for the scullery maid to attend them she sat him at the table in the kitchen. Still too filthy for the other rooms of the house, Arthur noted to himself. She sat beside him and stared at him, bright eyes blinking at him, a hungry expression radiating from her quaint face. He knew that expression all too well, of course this girl, married to a man twice her age, sat entranced by the bit of scruff who gallantly saved her.  
When the maid didn’t appear she stood to go and search for the staff, Arthur knew the others would already potentially be in the house, sneaking through the rooms and taking anything of value. She arrived at the bottom of the corridor before the parlour room and Arthur grabbed her quickly and stared straight into her eyes. He’d spun her to face him and a quick glance behind her through the open door he saw Charles, bag in hand, motioning the others in the room to stop.  
“When I was ridin’ past, I saw those men, then I saw you. I ain’t never seen a creature so pure in my life.” His voice low and thick, he could see her breasts heaving out of the top of her corset, her breath quick and short. “I couldn’t not rescue someone so beautiful,” He brushed some loose hair behind her ear, he observed the tasteful jewellery, very expensive taste. Perhaps the bargain for getting with such an old man. A clumsy clunk came from the other room made Arthur pull the girl into a kiss just as her eyes darted to the noise.  
Her pale complexion blushed pink, she looked side-to-side then back at Arthur, the group robbing the parlour room ready to run at a moments notice. Arthur knew he needed to get her upstairs, he could try for the jewellery while he was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no medical knowledge but I have had an episiotomy so I have a very good idea of the pain he was in, I have a friend whose cut got infected and went through a similar reaction to Arthur's crazy fever dreams and all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to write, there was a completely different version of this chapter, but I'm not jumping into smut all willy-nilly. maybe once I'm finished with this work I'll post the alternate version!

“Oh what the hell!” She snorted and grabbed at his hand to pull him up the stairs, “Not here, there are eyes everywhere in this house!” He flicked a glance at Charles who was still watching them from the Parlour room doorway. Arthur mimicked putting on jewellery as the young woman ran up the stairs ahead of her new hero. Unblinking Charles turned to carry on bagging things.  
“I’ve just realised I don’t know your name, my gallant knight,” she sat on the end of her bed, her skirts hitched temptingly close to the knee, “I am Cadence, but you can call me ‘Cady’” her posturing hinted her promiscuity. Arthur wondered how long he could distract her, he didn’t mind this role but he was not interested beyond the faint instinct to get laid, but even that would feel like effort.  
“Arthur M’Lady, what a fine room you have here,” He said awkwardly staring at the frilly fixtures around her bed. They clearly don’t share a marital bed.  
“Well Arthur, I think you should come here, I would like to thank you for your kindness,” Her voice had a sultry tone, one that told Arthur this wasn’t her first time bringing strange men to her boudoir. He stood close to her and she flopped backwards onto the bed, pulling at his braces he let himself fall onto her. “You can have that kiss now if you’d like,” He lent down and gently pressed his lips to hers, it didn’t feel right, maybe it was because she was to easy. He felt her messy and impatient pressing wet kisses to his mouth, he lazily kissed her back, he thought about the men downstairs. How long would they need before he could leave her tousled and wanting on the bed so he could go home. A bump downstairs told him they were still here. She breathed into his face, gasping and pressing at his body with hers. Her fingers scrabbled at his pants. Fuck Arthur thought to himself. He pictured Charles’s face in the doorway, what would he think? Does he feel rejected by him? Their bodies pressed together through the cold night.  
Her hands find what they’re searching for, “Is that for me?” She coyly asks, desperate and lusting her pupils are blown. God-damn. Maybe he should do this, fight the sin, none of the other guys would hesitate like he’s doing now. A quick fiddle with his buttons and he was inside her. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore her whimpers. Maybe it was the pain of Mary and the lost touch of Eliza, or how rutting wantonly created the happy accident that was his sweet boy. Charles would understand how he feels. Charles would place a warm hand on his shoulder and let him ramble on, he’d accept his reasons without accusing him of being backwards. He pulled himself from his thoughts and Cadence, flipping her onto her front. He couldn’t look at her face, he closed his eyes again and thought of Charles, so fucking understanding and gentle. He loosened the woman’s hair and grabbed a fistful of the dark mane. Charles’s smelt of Taima and smoke, his body started to stutter as he quickened, he flicked his eyes open, he thought he’d heard movement. The bedroom door had opened slowly, Cadence had her face buried in the pillow as she let out a cacophony of strange sounds, Arthur didn’t break stride as he saw the red-headed man sneak in. Arthur looked at him stunned, he felt naked despite his clothes and the coverage of the woman’s skirts. Sean pressed a finger to his lips, he disappeared behind the back of Arthur. As he came back round he mocked thrusting the air wildly a fistful of jewellery in one hand, before tapping his wrist and vanishing as quietly as he’d crept in.  
They’d all finished. He focused, lip between his teeth, Charles on the precipice of his mind. A single grunt as he finished outside her. He got up silently and dressed himself. She peeled her sweaty face off her pillow and reached into the bedside table to grab the money she had in a clip there and tossed it towards him. “I thank you again kind sir.” He nodded his head and deliberately strode out the door as she leant forward for a kiss goodbye. He walked through the empty house and out through the front where his horse was waiting, he could see the others in the distance along the path and soon caught up.  
“And I looks right into his bastard eyes as he’s ploughin’ er’ like the fuckin’ fields,” Sean was being camp clown as usual, the others all listening and laughing, “I wasn’t sure if he was gonna grab me and ‘ave me and all!” Sean looked across the faces for recognition and spotted Arthur bringing up the rear.  
“Here he is! Tha’ big man ‘imself! So boss did ya get your reward alright there? Didn’ wan’ tae interrupt yer’ but you sounded to busy to grab ‘er sparklies so I t’ought I’d do the honours!”  
“You pull that stunt again Mr McGuire, and you’ll be wearin’ those sparklies, as you call ‘em, very tightly round that scrawny neck of yours.” With that Sean chuckled but turned to conversation on the goods they’d swindled. Hosea, noticing that Arthur had caught up, pulled Silver Dollar away from the group and held her until the others passed.  
“That was more successful then I expected, although I’m sure Micah might have a few choice opinions about your acting skills. Did the young Lady suspect you at all? I hope she’s alive and breathing back there or else Dutch wi-“  
“She’s fine Hosea, she wanted...erm, well she got what she wanted anyway.” He wiped his brow on his shirt sleeve.  
“You didn’t? Arthur what if she ends up-“  
“She won’t, I ain’t puttin’ another child in the world by my carelessness again. She’d be out on her ear with a swollen belly and I-...well just know it ain’t gonna happen.”  
“Alright Arthur. I trust your judgement, you are my boy after all. As your leader I have to allow certain dalliances I suppose.” He strode off back to the front of the group keeping his eyes out for trouble. Arthur saw Charles a little off of the group and guided his horse towards Taima.  
“You get enough ya think, for Dutch?” Charles nodded, not taking his eyes off the path ahead.  
“I think that went smooth considerin’ we had that donkey Micah hee-hawing all over the place.”  
Charles didn’t react, his facial expression unreadable, perhaps he was just listening. They both ride quietly for a moment. “I didn’t really wanna lay with her, kept her distracted 'nough at least.” He stared across at the dark-skinned man. Like a stone.  
“Arthur no one made you do that. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. What you and with whom is none of my business.” He clicked Taima to head further into the group.  
Arthur felt miserable. The money pressed against his chest. He felt no better then Karen. It was dirty money. He grit his teeth, why did he explain himself to Charles. The man is no fool and must suspect Arthur’s confusing behaviour by now.  
The physical release wasn’t even worth it, it didn’t solve any problems and it hasn’t stopped the tug in his heart whenever he see’s Charles’s piercing eyes. Dark Mahogany and searching, peeling all of Arthur’s layers and leaving him exposed for the birds to pull him apart. Arthur was Prometheus and Charles would walk by not noticing his suffering.

 

Dutch arrived back in the early evening. They’d managed to get back relatively quickly when the trip was cancelled. Mr Peeves-Sibley receiving a telegraph informing of the robbery on his house. They’d made it out with fine marble statues, taxidermy animals, rare items like fossils and some precious metal décor pieces. Sean had grabbed as much of the jewellery as he could and they even took a couple of horses from the stable.  
Arthur picked out a dappled liver-chestnut mare with white socks. She was long-legged and spritely and would suit far better then the draught horse he’d been riding. He tended to her and switched his saddle.  
“Fine animal.” Charles said, nearing the horses hitching area. This was the first voluntary thing Charles had said to Arthur in days. “I bet she could even put Taima through her paces.” He studied the mare as she snorted and nibbled the wood of her post. Arthur smiled weakly at him, perhaps they were okay, Charles just needed to think a while.  
“Well I’ll have to race ya sometime once I know her better.” They smile at this. Arthur finishes his horse care and makes his way to Pearson. “So while we’ve been workin’ hard last couple’a days I hope you been bringin’ the food in?” Pearson scowled and looked around before leaning toward Arthur.  
“As a matter of fact Mr Morgan, I have not! I am stuck here with this...she-witch!” He spat the words out and looked around again, “Miss high-and-mighty fancies herself in charge of me and I ain’t having it! I didn’t serve my country and suffer unto the cruel sea only to be stuck with ma head in a cauldron while the devil herself curses me under her breath all day.”  
"Sadie’s harmless, Pearson are you afraid of Sadie?”, He chuckled, Pearson straightened up, haughty expression on his face.  
“I am lots of things Mr Morgan, but harmless, I ain’t.” Sadie stood behind Arthur, her bright shirt and pants giving her the swagger to back up her statement. “How about I prove it to ya?”  
“What ’cha think Mrs Adler?” Pearson muttered something under his breath, “We could have a good ‘ole wrestle? Shoot out or throwin’ knives?”  
“I say we replenish the meat supplies. Gotta be hundreds of bucks out prancing about this time. Or we could be more daring and go up the mountains and check out the elk, maybe even a moose or two?” She proposed, “That is if you ain’t afraid of the bears?”  
“Psshht” Arthur waved a gloved hand, “Big ‘ole teddy bears ain’t but a scratch on my girls” He patted his rife and revolver, “Though I would suggest takin’ someone else, just in case those bears get hungry.”  
“Sounds good Mr Morgan, better than any wrestling match. Plus from what I heard, I don’t have enough bucks to tip ya after” She winked rubbing her thumb against her fingers. ”Don’t worry, I won’t let Karen know, she’ll start savin' up!” She giggled and sauntered off to clean her guns.  
After a brief chat with Dutch and Hosea, Arthur started to plan the trip. He approached Charles later that evening and he agreed to come. He joined Sadie and Arthur at the campfire that night to discuss provisions.  
The snow was bright and blinding as the trio tread slowly through the deep snow. “When me and Jake needed to stock up meats in the winter we hunted out just further up from here and to the East. If you go further up you can pick ‘em off easy with a good rifle, though a bow would work just as good,” She looked toward Charles. They were all wrapped up to the ears in their thick winter coats. They arrived at their destination and sat resting by the fire and cooked off the rabbits they’d shot on the way up.  
“Snow ain’t as deep as I thought it might be, Sadie said thoughtfully. Her focus was taking her elsewhere and she kept staring further up the trail. Both men were prepared for what she was about to say. “You don’t think maybe I could leave you boys here the first night? If it’s alright I’d like to try and find Jake, maybe take a picture from the house or somethin’?”  
“We could go with you Sadie?” Arthur said gently. He looked to Charles who nodded and looked at Sadie and nodded to her as well.  
“Nah boys, I know how to handle myself in these parts. Plus I wouldn’t want you to see me blubberin’ or nothin’. Will hurt my tough, outlaw image you see?” She out her hands on her hips and nodded decisively.  
“You do what you gotta do Mrs Adler, if that means puttin’ Jake’s soul to rest in the ground or jus’ takin’ back some of your things then you do it.” He looked at her solemnly but with affection. She’d grown on him.  
“You still need to heal Sadie.” Charles, telling it how it is, “Neither of us can begrudge you of that.”  
“Thanks, you hard men can be real treasures sometimes”, she knelt between them on the ground and hugged them both, giving Charles a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Though I will need a tent if you have one spare? If I get caught out away from Colter I’ll need some shelter.” Looking imploringly at both of them. Arthur felt a sting at that.  
“Take mine, I believe I owe Charles anyway.” She paused, confused a second and then took the big canvas duffel of Arthur’s horse and strapped it to hers. “I will be back by tomorrow, don’t wait for me to start getting those deer in!” With that she disappeared in a cloud of upturned, fresh snow.  
“I hope she finds resolve up there and not just a frozen casket of bad memories.” Charles looked at Arthur, they both cared for her like a sister.  
“She’s a strong gal, bigger balls then the piss streaks like Micah and John,” He rubbed his hands over the fire chuckling, “Well John ain’t so bad, but Micah...Jeez.”  
“You really hate him don’t you?” Charles nudged him with his arm.  
“You’re telling me you don’t?” He nudged him back, “Mr epitome of tranquility and reason, you can honestly tell me you see that guppy-faced raccoon and think, I would really enjoy livin’ another day in his graceful company?”  
“I never said that, I use my sense and reason to guess that there is a high chance he gets murdered by either you or Javier before the harvest time. Thus giving me no reason to kill him. Only await the inevitable.” He held his head aloof in a show of humour.  
“Well I’ll be...Mr Charles Smith, making jokes. Well I’ll be.” Charles nudged again, grinning at the sarcasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry about the house robbery scene, I want you all gagging for it! just when you're least expecting it, then I'm gonna get ya!


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur laid out his bedroll on the cold, hard ground. He nodded at it determinedly and looked at Charles, hoping his action would resonate the message that he was not sharing a tent with the other man. Charles raised his eyebrows. Fool.  
That night the wind nipped at Arthur’s skin as he pulled his wolf-skin further up his face. The night was dark and he slept lightly, his breath a constant cloud around him, the fire doing it’s best to warm him. As the hours went by the nipping turned to angry bites, pushing the fire away from him and over time, snuffing it out altogether. Like blowing out a match. He was shaking so hard that he decided to brave the frost to try and start the fire up again. His hands were stuttering so violently he couldn’t light the flint, the dry hay he shielded with his legs, blowing away from underneath him.  
“Fuck!” He kicked at the wood, dying embers bouncing away down the edge of the rocky cliff they camped on.  
A muffled shout came from the tent. “Get in here Morgan, you’ll freeze to death out there.”  
Debating an alternative option, Arthur gave up and crouched, entering the warm pocket where Charles lay.  
He was face down bundled in furs over his bedroll, face hidden and black hair splayed out across the pillow. Still shivering, Arthur crawled into his own bedroll, still cold from the outside air, the tent quiet apart from Arthur’s teeth chattering and rugged breaths. Charles, without lifting his head, pulled off one of the furs and pushed it towards Arthur. Taking it he wrapped it round himself. Warming up slowly his body began to calm down and allowed sleep to set in.  
They stood at opposite ends of the camp at Clemen’s point. Everything around them vanished to nothing and all he could hear was his heart thumping and his breath so heavy he felt like he was made of stone. Charles stared, lips parted, his chest heaving as his body was going through the same strain as his. The men both strode to each other, fast, and Arthur grabbed Charles by the face and they kissed long and hard, Charles pulling back, his dark eyes flicking up and down before diving back in for more. The kiss was passionate and desperate, Arthur ran a hand through Charles’s hair, cradling his head and pulling himself in as close as he could without being him. Charles whispered his name as Arthur kissed his neck, “Arthur.” Then he pushed him away, shouting, “Arthur!” His voice high and with a tangy note to it.  
“I’m here Charles!” He flinched awake, nearly head-butting Sadie in the process, she looked down at the splatter of coffee on the fur.  
“I couldn’t think of anyone more opposite to my appearance Mr Morgan,” She teased, “Gotcha ya coffee, seems like ya need it!” She went back out the tent and started a conversation, presumably with Charles as he was alone.  
He scratched his head and took a couple of gulps of coffee before joining his two friends.  
“Hey Morgan,” Sadie greeted through her breakfast. She followed him with her eyes as he sat down between the two. “Cold last night huh?” She asked honestly.  
“You’d better ask Arthur, I think he got the brunt of it.” He didn’t look at Arthur as he said it, focused more on the small fire they had going.  
“Damn near passed from exposure out there!” He shivered just remembering it. “Well did ya’ lay your fella’ to rest then?”  
“Yes I did, I said my prayers and gathered what was left, no turning back now.” They all shared a moments silence and then started to pack up for the hunt.  
They didn’t wander too far before they found two young male elk, battling presumably for a female, no other elk to be seen.  
“I’ll look around for female, she’s gotta be nearby” Sadie whispered as she gently tread away in search of the beast.  
“So what’s the plan then Charles?”  
“I think we let them wear out a bit before trying it, that way if we don’t get them both at once they won’t bolt too far.”  
Arthur nodded and they waited. Antlers cracking and the creatures brayed and grunted. There was something so majestic, like a dance, all for the chance for one encounter to try and pass on their seed. Arthur thought it too much effort, he’d never been driven to have kids, the short experience he’d had as a Father had been wonderful, life-changing. But the loss was so painful he did not think he’d want to open up that possibility ever again.  
The battle began to slow and the men took their advantage, they only had to chase the one and it was soon dispatched by a sharp arrow whistling through the air. Arthur didn’t quite have the knack or grace for it that Charles had.  
It was like the man moved in slow-motion, as if time itself had to stop for a second glance.  
“Is it artistic purpose, something on my face or perhaps just a touch of retardation that has you lost like that?” Charles was looking up from the carcass he was tying to Taima.  
“Just thinkin’ about the west. This cold place, its so empty and untouched ‘n’ reminds me a little of home.”  
“Somehow Arthur, I don’t think we’ll be going back there for a very long time, if not ever. I guess your home is a caravan full of criminals and whores.”  
Arthur grunted by way of humour.  
“I sure hope you’re including me in the criminal faction.” Sadie wheezed as she dragged her catch behind her. “Goddamn they better be grateful for this!”  
“I think we should head back and get as far as possible before settling camp, wouldn’t want to attract anything with all this meat.” Charles cautioned.

 

They managed to push to Cumberland Forest before it got too dark.  
“At least we’re out the snow” Sadie chirped, “So I’m wondering if I still get the privilege of your tent Arthur?”  
She looked nervous, an unusual expression on her face. “Unless we’re sharin’, which I don’t mind, but at the same time, I’m a widow so technically still married!”  
“Sadie if you were worried about that you wouldn’t of come with us” He smiled, “Yeah go on then, could never leave a lady out in the night. I’ll take watch.”  
That night Sadie was in Arthur’s tent and gently snoring when Charles came and sat with Arthur. Before he asked, Arthur struck a match from his boot for his friend, the wind blew it out before he could offer it. “Damn last match!” Arthur growled. Charles looked from him to the fire and back to Arthur.  
“I’ll just light it off the fire, there’s no trouble?”  
“You’ll lose half ya’ smoke doin’ that, ‘ere...” He leant forward with his lit cigarette in his mouth and pressed it against Charles’s. Charles stared into his eyes, he could see a thirst in the man he couldn’t quite understand. No, he was pretty sure, or could it be hatred? Perhaps Arthur only tolerates him, he did make a point of trying to clear his name during the Tilly/Karen race incident.  
Their eyes stung from the smoke, they’d been pressed together longer then necessary and Arthur’s cigarette had creased slightly.  
“I haven’t apologised for bein’ an ass a little while ago.” His blue eyes peering from under the brim of his hat, shining, pupils blown despite the close light of the fire.  
“No, you haven’t.” Charles leaned back exhaling smoke through the corner of his mouth. “I never insinuated anything about you. You were very ill. We’re brothers, I will always care for you through the night if I need to. Even if you don’t want me to.”  
Arthur nodded, he was an asshole and had taken him for granted.  
“Plus that whole event during the robbery is proof enough if anything.” He chuckled. Arthur didn’t find it funny but kept up appearances and let out a soft laugh. “You’ve seen more action then the rest of us, well, bar Sean of course!”  
“Don’t bring up that little ginger fool, oughta’ smack him about the head for doin’ that.” He took another drag of his smoke.  
“Wish you had, then maybe the rest of us wouldn’t of had to hear about the details.”  
“I’m sure it’s no different then half of the flowery drabble that Mary-Beth spouts at camp.”  
“No. Sean was quite particular about details, a lot of it exaggerated I’m sure but still not great entertainment when I’m trying to eat.”  
Both the men chortle.

“Y'know it’s actually just as cold out here” Arthur pulled his coat over his shoulders and shuddered slightly.  
“Well now we’ve clarified that you’re not some devious pervert, how about camping in my tent. After all you have apologised for being a moron?” Charles stood and made for the tent and held the flap waiting for Arthur’s response.  
Devious Pervert. Cold Devious Pervert.  
“I guess, but I ain’t singin’ no lullabies for ya’.” 

******************************************************************

When they finally got home, they were exhausted. Both man and horse. Oh and complimentary woman. It wasn’t usual for them to go on hunts with the women. Abigail was a decent shot but didn’t have the sack to face anything bigger then a pronghorn or coyote.  
Pearson struggled to contain himself when he saw the delivery. It will still be poor to taste Arthur thought to himself.  
After they’d rested up some, the three soon were sat with their family enjoying their catch.  
“So anythin’ happen out there, anythin’ interestin’ at all?” Karen slurred.  
“Yes!” Sadie blurted and Karen seemed to sober instantly, “We saw the most magnificent sight! Two bulls fighting, never seen somethin’ like that, especially that close!”  
Karen looked disheartened, “Y’all are all so dull sometimes.” She pouted as her fist supported her chin.  
“They were quite somethin’ to see” Arthur agreed with Sadie. “So powerful and majestic, then they just go to bein’ quiet and still.”  
Tilly asked, “That’s how I’d describe most of you guys.”  
“I don’t think there are men like that, we lack the grace.” Arthur answered.  
“You basically just described Charles,” Abigail joined in, “I’d say he’s all those things.”  
“I ain’t gettin’ in this argument, you hear that Smith, you are a magnificent beast.” Arthur grinned at Charles.  
He look up at Arthur and smirked “You gotta stop Mr Morgan, my Father wouldn’t approve.” He pitched his voice up in imitation of a southern Lady.  
“Why ever not? I am a perfect gentleman?”  
“Sir, you are a criminal and a murderer.”  
“We’ll elope then!” The girls and the two friends all giggled.


	7. Chapter 7

“How can you even joke about such a thing?” Javier’s voice dripped with anger. “Men like that ought to get there bollocks off. If you’re going to live like an animal you should be treated like one.”

The mood around the fire became sombre. 

“It was a joke Jav?” Abigail confronted him.

“Well it’s late for me, I’m going to turn in for the night.”

“You girls oughta’ do the same” Arthur got up and headed for his wagon.

So apparently he was a devious pervert who should be castrated for his feelings.

 

A few days later most of the camp were attending business in Rhodes, they’d all wound up in the large saloon late afternoon. Karen sloppily flung herself over every other man she bumped into whilst Sean would pick fights with each one who’s lap she’d left.

Arthur looked about and saw Charles by the bar, an attractive young woman fingering the inside of his already unbuttoned shirt. Arthur’s breath hitched. He saw the downy black hair gently dusted on the supple dark skin. Charles seemed to be mostly involved and had pulled her in close.

Some time had passed and Lenny was trying to get Arthur to waltz with him, but all he could do was wonder where Charles was. He went round the back to see if his friend might be taking a breather. He heard thumping and groaning coming from one of the rooms. He smirked until he heard a familiar voice. The grunting and groaning was Charles. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, like desire and fear wrapped in one unpleasant gift.

He made his way back to the bar, and began to drink heavily. A man at the end of the bar would occasionally meet his eye. Soon the men in the bar began to dwindle in numbers and the women who were not otherwise engaged began to flop onto the floor in a drunk slumber. Arthur hit the dark night and took a deep breath of the cool air in. He reached for his smoke when he’d noticed he was out. He’d been trying his hardest to stay distracted he’d gone through them all.

“Need a smoke?” The man from the bar had appeared, despite the long time he’d been beside the bar, he seemed to be relatively sober.

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem, you look like you could do with it. What is it, money, work, a woman?” Arthur’s face scrunched, “Ah a woman then?”

“Somethin’ like that” He couldn’t hide his pained expression.

The man stared momentarily before taking a tentative step to shorten the distance slightly. “I’m, er...quite experienced in ‘somethin’ like that’”. He looked at Arthur quizzically.

Arthur nodded, not listening, he didn’t care for this man’s problems.

“Would ‘somethin’ like that’ be your friend with the long hair.” The stranger spoke gently and yet still rested his hand on his holster.

Arthur was shocked, maybe it was the whiskey, but could this man be talking frankly about what he thinks he is?

“How’d ya’ know?” 

“I’m like you, I see it.”

“Well it don’t matter anyway.”

“You need to release some of that tension, if he isn’t going to ever.” The man had broached the gap again.

“There ain’t no way, I’ve tried, it doesn’t go away.” Arthur looked up at him earnestly and desperate.

“I can help you there, but not here, come with me.” The stranger started to tread toward the small homes away from the saloon. Arthur stood and watched him leave. He froze for a moment before hurrying after him.

He lead them to a dainty home with one small bedroom at the back, the bedding had seen better days. When the door was shut the man from the bar approached Arthur.

“I’m David.” He then thrust a messy kiss onto Arthur’s lips. Stunned for a moment, he let himself be kissed. This should feel wrong. This shouldn’t be pushing my heart to gallop. The sin isn’t just Charles. Charles. Oh to be that woman.

David broke him from his reverie by cupping his pants and gasping against his neck. “So how’d you want to play this? Most men want to fuck me but I can fuck you if you’d like?”

Arthur stepped back, awake suddenly, he shook his head and stepped backwards towards the door. “No, this ain’t right, you keep away from me.”

“But Fella?”

Arthur grabbed him and pushed him against the wall, “You don’t know me, you ain’t ever seen me and if I ever see your face I will crush it with ma’ boot!”

David threw his hands up and nodded his head and trembling watched Arthur leave.

Arthur once again returned to the cool evening air, he headed back to the saloon when he saw a familiar, large figure stood in a cloud of smoke.

“Hey Arthur you wanna smoke?” Charles offered.

“Nah, my mouth is starting to feel like a hearth.” He felt relaxed to be near his friend again.

“Where did you just come from? A late night dalliance perhaps?” He teased him. His clothes had been put back on messily and buttons were mismatched. His hair all array and wild about his shoulders.

“Not me, although you looked like you had your hands full?” He tried not to let the jealousy give him away.

“Haha, yeah, it’s been a while. Had to let off some steam brother,” Charles slapped a hand on his back. “Well as it’s a way off till morning and most of our crew are asleep I think we seem to be staying here.” Charles started to head back inside, Arthur followed him and grabbed a few of the cushions from the seating area and put the chairs together to sleep on. Charles watched him fondly as Arthur tipped his hat so the brim just covered his eyes.

“Son, we’re riding out.” Dutch kicked his leg off the chair waking him up. They all groggily sat on their horses. Bill wobbling in his saddle and leant over and threw up over his boot and stirrup, Uncle laughed, the only one who apparently was unaffected by the heavy drinking. Mary-Beth also seemed to be mostly upright too, she sat gracefully on the wagon with a book in hand and a dreamy expression on her face.

“Go on, I’ll bite, what’s got into you?” Karen sneered. The group were all listening as they slowly plodded out of town, letting their horses follow Dutch and his steed.

“It’s just this new novella I saw the other day at the store. This lady falls in love at the first look of him and he doesn’t notice her for most of the story and he just has and he’s so in love.” She sighed

Karen mimicked throwing up and Bill chuckled, Javier rolled his eyes and Hosea continued to watch intently.

“He says the sweetest things to her, I can’t wait to fall in love.” She looked up from her book, “Did you fall in love with Sean at first sight?”

Sean hollered somewhere behind them and Karen smirked, “I don’t love Sean and I’m sure as hell ‘e don’t love me.” She looked at Mary-Beth directly, “Plus it don’t work like that.”

“If it didn’t then why is it in most of my books, if you’re so smart?!” The hopeless romantic fired back.

“Ladies,” Hosea gently interrupted. “That ‘love at first sight’ cliché is usually a misrepresentation of lust. Desire. Now love most always comes with lust, but it doesn’t usually happen like that, it’s discovered over time. Love is a journey, also most love is not equal. It’s a wonderful idea Mary-Beth, but love is mostly pain. Lust is the thrilling adventure you seek.”

“Well don’t put such a miserable note on it Hosea now,” Arthur joked, “Poor Mary-Beth will be too bummed out to look for a husband if ya sell it like that.”

“Quite right son. Though you can’t exactly talk confidently about happy endings.” Hosea stopped abruptly, “I’m referring to Ms. Linton of course. Eliza and Isaac, well that was different.”

“Well I didn’t really love Eliza like that. She birthed my son an’ raised him the best she could an’ I know she’ll of tried her hardest to protect him...in the end. I will always love that she was the mother of my child but we weren’t in love, neither of us.” He exhaled deeply, the others who were listening remained quiet. “Mary, well, I was a young fool. I did love her, but like you said Hosea, it ain’t always equal. That girl broke ma’ heart every which way. If there’s anything to learn from this Mary-Beth, is that no matter how it turns out, you’ll learn and grow. Y’all are still girls, you’ve got time.”

The girls nodded and looked thoughtfully at Arthur. Hosea nodded and trotted up to ride with Dutch. Charles maneuvered Taima to ride beside Gilly, Arthur’s mare. “How you doing brother?”

“Feelin’ rough, you?”

“Not too bad, I was never a big drinker until I got with you all.” Arthur smiled. “So if you’re not too rough, I thought you’d be the right man to come on a little side mission with me?”

“If it’s hunting I ain’t game, I’m not chasin’ no rabbits today friend.”

Charles grinned across their horses, “Not to worry, it’s more, locate and take.”

“Please tell me there won’t be no gunfire? My head is damn near ready to explode.”

“Well, I can’t guarantee that but if we stick to my plan and you’ve got on alright with the bow haven’t you?” Charles inquired.

“Yeah I guess, so what we retrievin’?”

“Some gunpowder, we’re going to use it to make explosives, maybe even explosive traps. So when the Pinkerton's drop by for a visit, we blow them sky high.” 

“You gotta be kiddin’ me? Damn, has Dutch signed off on this?”

“Yes, he thought we’d be the best men for it, calm and experienced. I agree.”

“So now for the kicker, who we takin’ this explosive shit from then?”

Charles ran his lip under his teeth and cleared his throat, “Just a few Lemoyne Raiders.”

“Is this ‘a few’ by your understanding or Dutch’s?”

“Well, I think there’ll be a few casualties on their side so we can steal it, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“I hope you’re sure about this.” Arthur kicked Gilly on as they started up the trail by Clemen’s point.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Arthur swallows a lot in one Chapter

The hideout, well, the supposedly innocuous den by which the Lemoyne raiders believed to be secluded and well hidden, was mostly sparse of enemies. There were about six in total, four patrolling and two presumably in the shack they needed to be in.

“Careful Arthur,” Charles warned as they wading through the swampy sludge, “They might not be the only things out to kill us today.” The hissing in the distance made Arthur swallow deeply. Scaly long bodies and long, powerful jaws full of teeth was not what he wanted to deal with today.

“I think I’d rather take the raiders.” He whispered, grinning uncertainly.

Three headshots perfectly executed by Charles and one messy “stealth kill” by Arthur and they were either side of the doorway to the shack. Guns out and drawn the rushed in and shot the other two men. Quite an easy mission Arthur thought to himself, they had the gunpower in small pouches gathered in one large sack.

As they headed away from the hideout a group of raiders came up on them.

“Dang it!” Arthur shouted as they galloped back the way they came. Their only escape route was to race through the swampland to get to the plains the other side, hopefully lose them on the way. Taima rode bravely, able legs dodging boggy patches and snapping jaws. Gilly was wracked with fear, eyes mostly white and ears folding back in terror, she frisked about in directionless motion as Arthur tried to reign her in.

“Arthur!” Charles shouted, he’d stopped with Taima who was dancing and throwing her head.

“You go ahead, I just...c’mon! Gotta get this- Damn!” A bullet flew past his face and buried itself into a nearby tree. With that Gilly bolted past Taima. Charles was shouting behind him but he was losing the words underneath the ruckus of the gunfire.

“Damn bastard said!” Arthur frustrated as Gilly sped through the mud. She was panting loudly and he knew he needed to get clear out of the swamp if she was going to make it. An alligator launched its head up toward Gilly’s neck, the skittish mare jumped and dodged the attack, pure luck rather then defensive strategy.

Charles had seen too and skirted round the beast as they saw an opening in the treeline. A Horse screamed and frantic bullets were shot behind them, a raider had been caught by the reptile.

As they galloped through the fields, clearing fences and changing direction they eventually stopped in a shady spot by some fruit trees. Gilly’s legs shook and her belly swelled and deflated dramatically. “Well,” Arthur was bent over catching his breath too. “You did say we should see how Gilly stan’s up tah’ Taima for speed.” He panted.

Charles had his hands on each hip and leaned backwards head up to the sky, “Arthur,” He grunted, “I don’t think now’s the time to gloat.”

“Perhaps not, I think we lost ‘em.” They both squinted toward the direction they came. No sign of a further search, “Lazy bastards.” He wiped his brow with the back of his glove, the old leather felt scratchy and dry. “So lets look at this gunpowder then?”

“Now don’t get angry now,” Arthur cocked up an eyebrow,

“Sayin’ that means your about tuh’ follow it with somethin’ that’s most likely gonna make me angry now.”

Charles held up his hands, “I had to toss it when they started shooting! If they had shot close enough, they would of blown is both into trail-mix.”

Arthur nodded quietly, “I guess you’re right. So we gonna have to get it now. If we leave it till dark, all the ‘gators will be out, if we leave it to light tomorrow, the raiders might come across it. Then I’ll have spent my hangover gettin’ shot at and bit at for nought. And that, well that my brother, would make me angry.”

Charles bent his head and looked across at Arthur, “Ah crap.”

 

The swamp was still except for the faint hissing of reptiles. “I see it.” Charles was looking pointedly at the top of the sack sticking out of the deep mud. Arthur looked back at Charles whose face was expressionless.

“I guess I’ll be gettin’ it then.” He grunted, “You owe me Smith.” He waded into the mud, he lost his footing and sunk deeper. Arthur looked down to see everything below his navel had disappeared into the swamp. He forced his legs to walk through it toward the sack and began to tug. Charles stood on the dry land and scanned for Raiders.

He watched Arthur and tried not to smirk, he’ll be pissed at this. 

“That’s gotcha.” Arthur strained as he loosened the gunpowder. As he began to turn, the mud next to where the sack was began to erupt as a rattling hiss broke out. Charles was running across the bank and jumped as close as he could, a loud yell as he bared his teeth, hunting knife poised for the alligator. Arthur panicked and frantically tried to climb the bank. He got clear enough to reach for the revolver in his holster, a quick prayer passed his lips that the gun would work despite the mud.

The alligator’s head exploded as the shotgun tore apart the skull and brain, covering Charles and Arthur with bloody flesh. They stood in shock momentarily before laughing.

“Jesus Smith.” Arthur grinned with relief at his friend.

“I couldn’t let that gunpowder go, no but really, I knew we had that!”

“That confidence of yours is dangerous, so back to camp?”

“Yeah. I think that’s enough fun for one day.”

Uncle and Bill were sat playing cards when the two men rode into camp. Their jaws hit the ground when they saw the state of them.

 

Clothes heavy with clay-like sludge, their top halves reddish-brown as the blood from the reptile dried on their shirts. Faces caked in a mix of both. Between Gilly and Taima, they had dragged the body of the alligator for Pearson.

Dutch appeared and slow clapped as they dismounted. “Now this, everybody, is how you contribute to camp!” He beamed and shook his head in disbelief at the size of the beast. “Charles, did you retrieve my powder?”

Arthur swung it off over his shoulder, “’Ere boss. I gotta get out of these clothes.” He got some clean breeches and a shirt and headed down to the river. He was taking his boots off when he heard heavy feet on the gravel.

“It’s dried on, I feel like a statue.” Charles joked. His nature around Arthur was different then when he was around the others. Arthur couldn’t help but flick his eyes over as Charles pulled his braces down and started working on his shirt buttons. Arthur followed suit, accidentally mirroring him, focused entirely on the dark skin that was slowly revealing itself.

Charles’s torso bare, he was a large man, mostly muscle but soft looking. His skin darkened around his elbows and nipples. Arthur swallowed. Before he knew it Charles had slipped down his pants and supple thighs lead his eyes up to a round and dimpled ass. Dusted with dark hair, Arthur hoped he wouldn’t turn around, else he might just collapse. The hunter waded into the water, cupping it and bringing it to his face.

Arthur thought he was going to die.

“What’s wrong?” Charles stared at Arthur as he stood on the shore, shirtless and barefoot, looking lost.

“Just gettin’ fear from the gator that’s all.” As Charles continued to wash his face, Arthur hastily joined him so as not to be seen.

Charles was always so graceful, but without clothes to hide his body, he was like a swarm of birds; dancing in the sky. Arthur couldn’t help but smile for how awkward he felt. Charles’s eyes caught his, the sun seemed to be setting in those deep, brown orbs. Arthur felt himself melting as Charles’s smile warmed him like the setting sun behind them.

They didn’t speak, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, they bathed and smiled. Catching each others faces every other moment. Later they sat on the logs by the fire, the cool air kissing their heads and the flames warming their chests. The wind gently moved the loose hairs around Charles’s face. Arthur swallowed his beer down and lit a cigarette, holding the match out automatically as his friend had already pulled out his own cigarette to be lit. Abigail who was knitting raised an eyebrow but continued with her work.

She saw the closeness of their bodies, just inches shy of touching. Perhaps it was coincidence, but then again, it seemed all too close for the camp introverts. John shuffled into view and perched beside Abigail. She looked up from her work and noticed that the other two men had straightened up and leant away from each other, brooding individually.

“So you two heard Dutch’s new mission?” John took the cigarette Charles offered him.  
“No I don’t think I’ve heard anything,” Charles looked questioningly over at Arthur.

“Me neither, so I guess I betta’ write mah’ will before I sleep, seein’ as every plan lately ‘as nearly killed me.”

“Well, we’ll be heading down to Saint Denis to intimidate some...uh, back alley tradesman or something like that.” John looked to Abigail and looked back at the men, seemingly holding something back. “He needs you two as a show of muscle, we’re running out of scary faces round here. I mean look at them!” John cocked his head toward Uncle and Bill who were literally having a pissing contest. Sean who was semi-conscious on the camp table was howling with laughter at it all completely wasted. 

“You have a point.” Charles, serious and to-the-point with his deep voice, not the same Charles that Arthur seemed to know.

“As long as there ain’t no ‘gators then it could be in Blackwater for all I give’a’ damn.” Arthur joked.

 

That next morning, Dutch, John, Charles and Arthur congregated at the hitching area.

“This is an unpleasant man, boys.” Dutch had a cigar perched between his moustached lips. “He deals in many disreputable things. Drugs, moonshine and most of all...people.”

“Dutch, please tell me we ain’t goin’ there. We are “Bad Guy’s” because we live the Old West Way, we ain’t bad men. You said we stop at shit like that.” John and Charles looked to Dutch, they were in agreement of their friend.

“Sheriff Gray has asked us investigate the owner of the new brothels that have been opening in Rhode’s. The brothels bring other crime into the area, problems a drunk like Gray cannot control.”

“Well you always say that, then you go and double-cross ‘em both and get us stuck in a world of trouble.”

“Watch who you’re talking to Son. This time we are going to step in. This...Monster as he’s referred to by the local authorities, will have kept up quite the profits. He cannot put those into the bank without suspicion, nor can he protect it in real estate. This man is a wanted criminal and this is his last haven. He’ll be sitting on a world of money, money made off the backs of people he’s essentially enslaved,” He took a few leisurely puffs on his cigar, “So it’s only right to take it from him don’t you think? That and get the women out of there.”

“Where they going to go? Remember what happened last time we had a large group of whores in the camp?” John exclaimed, “One-by-one they all died until mysteriously there were only four. Four skilled killers and manipulators. Not having that again Dutch.”

“I second that” Arthur nodded at John.

“I think that would be mildly entertaining” Charles muttered and even Dutch smirked at that.


	9. Chapter 9

The man, Mr Yvanick Janssens, lived in a tall and stately home amidst the hustle and bustle of one of Saint Denis’ busier streets. Well guarded gates opened to them and they were followed up the path by two burley looking men. They both had strange tattoos on their faces and one moved his jacket to flash the weapon on his belt. Arthur tipped his hat and gave a look to Dutch. 

They were taken round the side of the house to a doorway that was most likely the delivery entrance. The women who were smoking their stepped aside, sultry eyes and smudged red lips curved into sickly smiles. The were dressed finely but their clothes were dishevelled and undone in places. John winked at them as the passed, a naivety of being a younger man, Arthur thought to himself. They were led to a small room with a chaise and a worn sofa. The items appeared out-of-place in contrast to the fine art on the walls.

“’E will see you now.” A tall, skinny man with a strange accent. Not the Hispanic Arthur was used to but something more, fancy. The foreign man led them into another room, this one was wall to wall with full bookcases, exotic beasts hung from the walls ready to bare witness to their conversation.

“Please j’entlemen do come in.” Another skeletal man with a fancy accent, although his had another twang to it, perhaps something Germanic Arthur thought. “You already know me as Yvanick Janssens, correct?”

The Americans looked blankly at the man before them.

“Hmm, yas, z’ay did warn me of z’is.” He adjusted his spectacles. “Z’e Americans lack, erh, how do you say...a certain, refinement?” He looked to the man who’d walked them in who nodded.

“Mr ‘Yansons’ is it?” Dutch reached out a hand to Yvanick, “I assure you my men are as refined as the finish on your waistcoat, which may I say-”

“No you may not. So you are involved wi’z z’e local law enforcement? No need to answer, I already know, z’at being said, I also know you are a group of outlaws, whores and traitors to your country. So, what would a group of shits like you want wi’z me?”

Dutch looked genuinely stunned. The other three men didn’t know how to respond until Arthur removed his hat and stepped forward.

“We’ve come to talk t’uh you about your business across in Rhodes.” Arthur gave a pause before continuing, “Y’see, he don’t mind your women in his saloons and whatnot. However your gals seem t’ah of attracted other delightful people that the sheriff ain’t in no position sort out.”

“At least it seems someone can get to z’e point wi’zout spouting bourgeois bullshit to dress up z’eir demands.” Mr Janssens directed his comment toward Dutch, “Go on young man.”

“Well, uh, well I don’t really know what to suggest as we’re here to getcha t’ah stop, but I know nothin’ ain’t ever gonna stop workin’ women. So maybe,” He scratched the back of his head, “Maybe if you set up in one buildin’ instead of all over then the sheriffs could take care of business more efficiently. Surely that would be simpler for yourself too?”

“Yes. Yes it would. The thing is Mr Outlaw iz’ z’at my business, isn’t law-abiding. I’m a Belgium man, where I am from, z’er is a mutual acceptance for what I offer, as long as it stays; hidden. You see if I was to set up a bro’ssel’ as you call it, all of my property would be hanged wi’zin z’e week.”

“Your proper-”

“Arthur.” Dutch rested a hand on Arthur’s back, the weight of it was firm and commanding.

Yvanick stepped out from behind his desk and pulled off his glasses and let them hang on the chain. He stepped toward the group and indicated with his finger for Charles to step forward.

“You are more American z’en z’ese men aren’t you? Z’eh sharp cheekbones and z’eh long hair. Like a stallion. So strong looking.” Yvanick tapped the cane he walked with against Charles’s leg and arm on his right side. Then he looked directly at Dutch.

“’Ow much, for z’is man? I’ll give you $200. Cash.” He looked sincere.

Arthur breathed in sharply and stepped forward, just as Dutch’s arm caught him.

“Mr Janssens, we don’t sell our men. Charles is like a brother to us. Y’see we value loyalty, you can trust us to keep your business running without issue, but we have to know all the details. So we know what problems we’ll be dealing with...” Dutch seemed nervous of the Belgian, thought Arthur, he hoped that he didn’t fuck this up because there would be a really quick shootout and they’d end up dead.

Yvanick pulled on some embroidered silk hanging close to the wall, a faint ‘dingle’ was heard from further away in the house. A moment later two young women and one man wandered in. The young women were dressed in revealing outfits. Arthur couldn’t help but stare when he noticed, they weren’t women. These were men, dressed in women’s clothes and had their faces painted. The ‘women’ stood either side of Janssens, pressing against him and stroking his arms.

The four men stood in shock, neither of them had seen anything so blatant and shocking before. The third man, who was also scantily-clad, made his way between them running his hand across them as though they were barley in a field.

“You see gentlemen, z’is is why I cannot ‘ave a business in Rhodes.” Yvanick quirked his eyebrows at them. “It would get burnt down, or worse, my assets would be murdered.”

Dutch straightened his jacket and avoided eye contact with the man who swam between them.  
“I think, Mr Janssens, we could arrange an agreement between the sheriff of Rhodes. Perhaps a little grease in his pocket and he might be willing to allow...this.” Dutch tried his best to not look completely disgusted.

The other foreign man spoke to Yvanick in a foreign tongue before he turned to address the gang.  
“Mr Janssens will agree to come to an arrangement. We will send you w’iz $300 to satisfy z’e drunken Gray man. For this we ask for a building in which to operate our, business.”

“Done!” Dutch reached out a hand and grabbed the foreign man’s and gave it a firm shake. The man looked moderately sickened and not-so-subtly wiped his palm on the back of his trouser leg.

“I will send confirmation via my associate, Mr J. Trelawney, he’ll write up some paperwork for you to signature.”

With that they all left peacefully, on the way out they passed the smoking women by the door. 

“Hey handsome,” One flirted at John who nearly tripped as he walked away, he nodded his head and grinned back at them. The same way Arthur saw a long time ago when they first met Abigail. Arthur rolled his eyes. The woman then lifted up her skirt to reveal she, was a he and he wiggled his cock at john. John’s face screwed up and flustered red.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I don’t bite,” The man John gave eyes to, boomed in a suddenly deep voice. John pushed between his friends who couldn’t help but laugh at his expense.

“We don’t mind waitin’ do we boys?” Arthur teased as they all started to mount up, “Let our lil’ Johnny boy have some fun.” 

“Don’t bait me Morgan, you’ll only get hurt when I bite.”

“If you’re into that perhaps it’d be best y’ah stay then!”

Charles shook his head and smiled, Arthur was harmless really. John tried to suppress a grin too.

“Refined men, that’s what I called you.” Dutch laughed at them and they all headed off to Rhodes to deliver the news. 

The sheriff was as horrified by the news as Dutch was uncomfortable giving it. Arthur was inside his head as comments were made about the disgrace of man. Charles stood staring at him, trying to read his mind, Arthur felt his lingering eyes and looked to him, raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement of the conversation. Charles just blinked, deadpan expression as usual. Always so different when they were in the group.

Arthur wondered what Charles thought about the whole Janssens deal. What did he think about the men? Would he ever sneak into somewhere like that to indulge in depravity? Arthur pictured Charles, naked in silk sheets, an orgy of men around him. Kissing and stroking him, Charles moaning with pleasure as they suc-

“Arthur?!” Dutch batted him about the head with a rolled up newspaper. “Wake up boy!” Arthur pointedly straightened his hat and huffed at Dutch. “Like an old mare Morgan, have to kick you into action and when I do I get attitude.”

John looked smug as they turned their horses towards home, he nudged Old Boy past Gilly and head aloof trotted up behind Dutch. “That’s right,” thought Arthur, “you keep on crawlin’ up his ass.”

As if hearing the words in his head Charles ‘hmph’d’ at the rivalry between the brothers.

When they arrived back at camp Dutch called for Trelawney and disappeared into his tent. John approached Abigail with some crooked flowers he’d picked up at the roadside, he turned to the other two and winked.

“That man has a lot to learn.” Charles said as he unsaddled Taima. They both watched Marston flirt his way to Abigail’s affections, an attractive young woman, who was none the wiser to the ease at which John switched his fancy.

“Aye, but what fine example does he have to follow? Dutch is by know means a monogamous or even loyal man. He don’t care for Molly one bit, she’s a replacement for the last and a stand-in for the next.” Charles switched his gaze to Arthur, taking in his rough features.

“What about you? I know you mentioned before that long-term isn’t something you can commit to, but...unless I’ve missed something, I haven’t seen you at any women?” Arthur felt suddenly quite hot despite the evening chill. “Sean and Karen, Bill and Uncle, well they’d have Karen too with half-the-chance! John and Abigail, Dutch and Molly. I’ve seen Lenny and Javier disappear into brothels and the skirts of women at the saloon. Besides Micah and Trelawney, you’re the only one I haven’t seen get any.”

“Well who the fuck in their right damn mind would fuck Micah for a start?!” Arthur chuckled, “Trelawney, he might be more interested in what that Belgian’s peddlin’. He shuffled to get comfy as he leaned on his hitching post. “As for me, well I had that man’s wife not too long ago, though that was more of a distraction for ya’ll to get out there okay.”

Charles turned to Arthur, brow raised, “A distraction? Well I hope that’s my next job on a mission!” He hopped off his own hitchpost and stepped to Arthur, “Well, seeing as we have no missions till at least sun-up and there’s no distracting that needs doing, how about we go and find ourselves some fun?”

Arthur felt sick to his stomach, this was hardly his idea of fun. The jealousy he felt last time they were out, nearly drove him to a prostitute, nearly drove him to murder. “I can’t be around him,” Arthur thought to himself. He considered making up an excuse to not go with him when Charles broke the silence;

“Don’t worry, I won’t wander off unless be both have someone to occupy us for the night. Wouldn’t want you to feel, put out, was it?” He grinned cheekily and pushed Arthur playfully.

“I guess Mr Smith, it couldn’t hurt just this once. Mind you, I ain’t carryin’ your ass onto your horse if you get to drunk to stand!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it! So how about a redo on that race between our girls? Think you can handle your horse this time?”

“Charles, I hope you left enough room in your belly for the dust we’ll have you eatin’”

They galloped off hooting and spurring their horses on, in high spirits, though Arthur was steal feeling nauseous about the saloon.


	10. Chapter 10

The saloon was packed, mostly men but a considerable amount more women then usual. As the stepped inside, Charles rubbed his hands together as though selecting a cake from a bakery. They headed to the bar first, Charles starting with a beer and Arthur jumping straight into whiskey. He wasn’t sure he could force himself into sex with a woman here. Probably because they’re carrying diseases, Arthur reassured himself. What was he thinking, he knew the only thighs he wanted wrapped round him were Charles.

He straightened up, he looked down at his glass, it can’t be kicking in already…

Charles was already catching eyes, for a reclusive man, he oozed with confidence. Women were definitely easier for him to be around. He was making subtle gestures at a freckled, redhead. He was indicating the bar with his head and just as Arthur turned back to the bar to order another drink despite the full glass in his hand, Charles nudged him. “I might of found you a girl, what do you think? Stick with these or look for better?” Arthur turned and saw the young girls giggling at them behind lace-trimmed fans. Before Arthur could say anything a blurry blonde creature stumbled between the four.

“s-sluts! You, you bett-hicc-ugh, tshlur hands off- ghirls,” The creature uncurled slightly to reveal a pickled Karen, eyes red underneath frizzy ringlets smattered to her face with beer and God know’s what else. “S’my boys.” She pointed a finger at the two girls who looked between each other and then sauntered off.

Charles lifted a hand out and let if drop before turning to Karen, “Now what are you doing here alone?”

“Campsss-hurgh-ughhh, boring as hell, ughnn-huerghh-I’m gonna,” She turned to the side and vomited onto the saloon floor. Charles looked at her with dismay. Arthur couldn’t help but feel relief, perhaps Karen will keep them occupied long enough that the chance for company will get lost. Once she’d finished, Karen stood bolt upright, wiped her mouth on her sleeve and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“That feels better. C’mon, letsss get-oursel’s some drink!” She shouted up to the bar. The men looked between themselves and shrugged before joining her.

Arthur had been right, they’d been stuck with Karen all the night until she passed out amongst the other random bodies on the floor. Very drunk, Charles and Arthur giggled as they tried hopelessly to drag her outside to the horses. Dropping her and banging her as they went through doorways, every now and then a deep chuckle slipped from Karen’s lolling head. By the time they’d got her halfway out the barrel delivery door, they noticed her horse wasn’t hitched up. In fact, her horse wasn’t even anywhere to be seen. Maybe she hitch-hiked?

They couldn’t leave her half outside, they manouvered her back inside and then stumbled outside for a smoke. Arthur resumed the mantel of holding out the light although he couldn’t keep still on his feet, falling into Charles who also couldn’t keep still enough to hold his cigarette to the flame. They couldn’t control the laughter as it took more many matches later to finally light both cigarettes. They swayed and stumbled quietly, enjoying their smokes, the silence being broken by little chuckled every now and then, setting each other off.

Charles looked across at Arthur with dewy eyes, “lets head back,” he slurred, “We can bring Karen’s horse up tomorrow.”

“M’kay, yeah.” The tiredness setting in. Arthur put one foot in his stirrup and focused on pulling himself up into his saddle, he overestimated the step up and fell across the other side of Gilly who snorted in annoyance. Charles was struggling to get himself onto Taima, his bloated belly full of beer seemed to be holding him down. Arthur went to him and held his hands together to help Charles up. 

Charles put his boot in Arthur’s hands and attempted to lift himself up, he neglected the rest of his body and slipped landing on the other foot and pushed off Arthur’s hand again. Arthur was too drunk to be prepared for the second boost and moved his hands as Charles stretched his leg. He grabbed onto his saddle and Arthur pushed his ass up onto Taima. They were in hysterics by the time both of them were safely in their saddles. Charles was slightly ahead singing “Ring-Dang-Doo” very loudly and occasionally waving his hands in the air, saluting his invisible audience.

Arthur swigged from a flask inside his coat, the clink of the metal distracting Charles from his solo, as he turned in the saddle to observe the vessel reflecting in the light of the moon, he slipped from his saddle. They were drunk when they left but now they’d had time to stew they were rapidly losing all motor function. Charles sat accepting his inebriation on the grass verge by some trees as Taima wondered close by looking for good grazing. They were a few minutes canter away from home now. Arthur ungracefully dismounted and joined him, flopping back onto the grass and staring at the moon.

It was nearing dawn and the dark silhouettes of deer could be seen softly roaming in the distance. They were alone. Charles let himself fall backwards to gaze at the moon too. 

“So much for getting some action huh,” he yawned, “you got the most and that was just helping me on my horse.” Arthur could feel him smiling across at him.

“Well sometimes you’ve just gotta settle for what’s aroun’ yah’.” Arthur yawned back. He said it meaninglessly and so was surprised when Charles rolled toward him. There was something in his eye, it flicked away as quick as it had appeared.

“We have to move Arthur, or we’ll sleep here and get robbed, or worse, the others will find us and we’ll never hear the end of it.” As if sober instantly, Charles steadily climbed up onto Taima. Arthur did the same and they made it back just as the sky started to turn pink.

 

Arthur woke to Jack bouncing a wooden horse over his blanketed legs. The little boy making ‘clip-clop’ sounds looked very content and didn’t startle when Arthur turned to look at him properly.

“Hey Uncle Arthur!” He chirped. He continued with the horse toy.

“Hey there Jack, how long you been playin’ here?” His voice thick and hoarse. Eyes squinting in the bright afternoon sun. “What time is it?”

“I can’t tell time yet, Hosea’s teaching me though. I’ve been here a little while, mummy told me not to disturb you, else you’ll get angry. I knew you wouldn’t. I was wondering if you wanted to go fishing again soon?” Jacks voice so high and bright with innocense.

“Not today Jackie, I’m not feelin’ so well, y’know if the stews out yet?” He sat up, sweaty, unaccustomed to waking up this late and layered with blankets and his clothes.

“I don’t know about that.” He stated staring elsewhere, “Bye Uncle Arthur.” He skipped of making his toy gallop in the air beside him.

Arthur regretfully pulled himself from his cot. He heard the clashing of pans and muttered some cuss words under his breath. He located the stew and gave the finger to Pearson before he’d even said anything.

Charles was sat in a shady spot away from the noise. He nodded at Arthur as he approached, mouthful of stew. “I think I drank too much last night. I have a faint memory of you manhandling me onto Taima?”

“Hah, yeah, we were both in quite the state.” Arthur dropped down next to him sloshing stew on the ground, “I think we left Karen there too y’know.”

“Oh...yes we we did, didn’t she get in the way of those young girls?” Charles had a look of confusion, a rare sight thought Arthur.

“That’s our Gal. Probably should go an’ get ‘er.” They finished their food and tacked up their horses, much slower then usual, which Hosea pointed out teasingly. Just as they were about to mount Ms. Grimshaw came at them hard and with purpose.

“Hey, if you see that silly girl Karen while you’re out bring her lazy ass back here with you! Such an ungrateful brat drinking her life away! When I was her age-...” Her angered voice trailed off as she marched off, no doubt to chase Tilly about the laundry.

“Hey Arthur, Karen’s horse is here? Should we take it with us?” The horse in question happily grazed amongst the herd, none the wiser of it’s rider’s disappearance. 

“Nah, too much hassle.”

 

Karen was found easily still mostly where they left her, although more upright and drink in hand.

“I think that’s ‘nough now don’tcha’ think Karen?” Arthur’s gentle voice asked as he crouched down to her level, trying not to turn his head away from the smell of her.

“S’pose, is that ol’ bitch still alive?” She mumbled miserably, taking another swig from her bottle, letting most of the liquid poor down her once white blouse; no a mix of dirty orange and wine stains.

“You ain’t been gone that long gal.” He looked up at Charles who was despondent. “C’mon now, you can ride with me.”  
She sat behind Arthur and held her arms round his waist, mostly for balance as they were only going a steady trot and yet it felt like gilly was galloping in circles. Charles exhaled dramatically behind them, he caught himself all tensed up and let his shoulders drop and his jaw unclench. He felt tense seeing Karen’s face pressed against Arthur’s strong back.

They decided to cut through the flats when Charles had the feeling they were being watched. Brazenly a team of six raiders trotted up behind them.

“Arthur.” Charles said calmly. Sensing the warning in his voice, he drew his pistol as he turned to see the vicious grins of the men behind them.

“Hey fellas, ain’t no one gotta die today, just askin’ for your weapons and possesions is all.” A nasal voice from one with few teeth made the demand. “Ooh and who’s this fine Lady?”

Karen raised her head, burped and then shot the man’s face clean open, Arthur jumped as she did, seeing his other gun in her clumsy hands. The other men quick drew and the horses were spurred on as Arthur and Charles shot at the others taking out one other before they got to a ranch nearby.  
They rushed in and started throwing furniture at the doors and windows. The family who’d been sat eating their breakfast, stunned, hid behind the older man at the table.

“If you have a gun I’d grab it now,” Charles, calm but commanding. He looked to the older woman, “Take the children and lay low.” She rushed off and made the children hide under their bed.

Karen sat at the table picking at the food as a bullet whistled past her and into the crockery cabinet against the wall behind her, smashing a crock-pot onto the floor. “Why we hidin’ ain’t like us to run from a silly ol’ gunfight?”

“Because,” Arthur huffed as he shoved an armoire by the door, “You’re with us, an’ your as useless as a pile ‘o’ wet sticks about now.” He looked to Charles and nodded as they took position by the windows. The man who’s home it was, also crouched by a window, the barrel of his gun sticking out. “If we’d tried to fight them, you’d of likely got shot.”

“Would’a been better then goin’ back to camp.” She moaned.

They ignored her as the bullets started coming through the walls of the house more readily. There was a while of firing and reloading, bullet shells chinking on the ground by their feet. The raiders taunted even as Arthur and Charles took them out one by one. The last man standing mounted his horse and making off as Arthur grabbed his rolling-block rifle, jumping through the window he’d been firing through and held the gun steady and scanned toward the horse and rider getting smaller over distance. He loaded and pulled the trigger, a distant yell as the shot tore through the man’s back as he fell from his horse.

After the furniture had been moved Charles appeared in the doorway. “Nice shot Arthur.”

“Weren’t bad now was it?” He felt chuffed, the life of an outlaw meant that measuring the skill in which it took to kill a man was worth celebrating.

“If only you hunted like you protected.” Charles teased. “You probably saved Karen though, that was good of you.”


	11. Chapter 11

“She’s like sister is all.” He felt shy, unnerved by the look he knew Charles was giving him from behind.

Arthur turned and tentatively smiled as Charles walked up to where he stood, smile unubroken he didn’t change his expression. Arthur felt himself blinking too much and shifted on his feet. He hoped Charles didn’t think he was a fool. He felt uncomfortable, like a traitor, his motives in his friendship towards Charles had changed. Charles hadn’t consented to be thought of in this way, Arthur chided himself.

Charles looked at Arthur, he seemed nervous, not used to having the goodness in him highlighted. He felt the urge just to hold him and reassure him that he knew he was good.

“We gonna stand here an’ wait for the swallows tah’ come home or what?” Karen was leaning in the doorway, framed by the bullet holes that decorated the wooden house. The man thanked them for protecting his family, he seemed tense, Arthur knew that he knew they didn’t give a damn about bringing a shoot-out to a stranger’s homes. Well, he did, but only because there were kids.

They rode back silently, even Karen, who'd begun to sober up and presumably wasn’t all that keen about returning to camp. Ms. Grimshaw saw them ride in and stormed over, grabbing Karen by the ear before she was even fully off Gilly’s back. A string of cuss words and “No good”s and “stupid girl!”s painted the way to the women’s wagon.

Arthur hadn’t stopped feeling the brown eyes that had followed him the ride up. He couldn’t turn to look as he felt the stupid grin he was restraining trying to force it’s way out. He heard the sound of a buckle and glanced from under the brim of his hat as Charles lifted Taima’s saddle off her sweaty back, as he did so his blue shirt lifted up past his pants, teasing Arthur with a cheeky glimpse of skin.

Arthur felt desire pull him, the thirst to just tear Charles apart and become him, he shut his eyes for a moment and groaned internally. He headed away from the horses and straight across the camp, each stride pulling him further away from lust as he skipped down to the water at the other side of camp. He crouched down and splashed his face, taking deep breaths he calmed himself. He felt it, fizzing in his belly, bubbling away waiting for the first chance to explode.

Arthur groaned, he needed relief, he told himself. He headed left, round past camp to where the water fills a tucked away spot, where Arthur often washed himself. He paced, deciding not to go into the water, it was the middle of the day and sometimes the women came here to do the washing. He climbed up the muddy verge to the top of the bank which was shaded by a gathering of trees. He slumped down by one, breathing heavily. He tried to clear his mind, take Charles and the devil out and just be.

He closed his eyes but was intruded by the image of Charles washing in the lake beside him. His eyes snapped open, he shook his head as if to stop the call to close them again and return there. He gave in letting them flutter shut and the visage of the hunter returned. This Charles looked at him, giving sultry eyes as he slowly cupped water over himself. Outside his mind, Arthur was panting, head leant back against the tree, one leg stretched out, the other one bent with his arm resting upon it.

His other hand rested atop the thigh of the outstretched leg, fist clenched tightly, using the last of his reserve from taking him a step too far. Charles the daydream strode towards him, water waving around his supple mahogany body. His long, black hair flat down his back, the front hairs spooling in silky, dark circles; clinging to his wet chest. Arthur’s clenched fist uncurled with shaky finger’s slowly splaying out across the fold of his jeans that covered the buttons. The physical tease turned the image in his mind like a pictogram, Charles flickering from sullen movements in the water to right on top of him. As if Charles’s hands were on him.

 

Charles only just noticed the familiar boot sticking out past the tree his friend was most likely sat behind. He smiled to himself, picturing Arthur with his journal in his lap, a pretty recreation of the Flat Iron Lake forever captured between the pages. He moved round the trees as not to startle his friend and ruin the drawing when he saw Arthur’s eyes shut tightly, perhaps fallen asleep whilst doodl-, wait, no journal in his lap. Charles turned away suddenly feeling like a voyeur. He felt hot, seeing Arthur with his hand down his pants moving up and down slowly.

He took a step to walk away but couldn’t help but turn again, his lip between his teeth. Charles awoke himself and quickly started to walk away, he felt embarrassed and weak. His feet stumbling and snapping a bunch of twigs before landing and breaking a branch under his boot. Wincing internally, he heard the gasp behind him. Not looking back to see Arthur’s confused and embarrassed face staring at him.

“Charles, I-” He felt sick.

“Sorry Arthur, I’ll just, yeah...” Charles kept his back to him as he walked back to camp.

Later that afternoon Arthur reappeared. He’d lingered, not sure what to say to Charles, if he’d ever even speak to him again. Perhaps it was best to just be alone for a while. Charles was under his shared tent, making sure he wouldn’t accidentally bump into Arthur. Of course it was normal, it wasn’t there first time he’d caught him out. He remembers not a while ago he was fishing when he noticed Arthur bathing and had realised he’d witnessed something a little bit more only after calling to him. Some dumb excuse he gave, but Charles accepted it because it was not like anyone had any privacy for those things.

No fumbled lie could be given this time. Charles kept peering through his hair, straining to see if he could spot him. Maybe he should of stayed quiet, then he wouldn’t of interrupted him and he could of slipped away unnoticed. Wasn’t like him to lack stealth. Why did he turn back, maybe if he hadn’t disturbed him he could of watched him for longer. Seeing Arthur so bare and unconstrained by duty or false masks of toughness. Seeing him so innocent and trembling with want…

“Hey amigo,” Javier stopped by the tent to look for his hat, “you should check out the food store man.” Charles didn’t lift his head as he nodded his response. Javier was used to Charles’s stillness, he was already adapted to it from living with Arthur for so long. “We hit up a delivery on the way back from dropping off a bounty and now the supply wagon is overflowing,” He made a gesture with his hands, nodding to himself excitedly, “Dutch was so happy man, he gave us extra money from the bounty seeing as we don’t have to get no food for a while.”

“Sounds good Jav” Charles was sat fiddling with his arrows but not doing anything to them.

“Well if whatever this is-,” Javier pointed in a circle at Charles and his arrows, “gets boring, then come and join us in Rhodes. The boss is coming tonight so it’ll be a good one.”

Charles debated it, he was still debating when the gang headed out. It was a strange kind of quiet being one of the only ones in camp. He could hear Abigail singing softly to Jack from their tent and Swanson was looking solemn by the fire. Even Pearson had headed out. Charles decided it would be a good opportunity to talk to Arthur, therefore if it backfires there won’t be too many awkward questions to answer. Charles thought the blasé approach would do, he was just a man doing what men do. No need to make a big deal about it.

What was there even to make a big deal about? he asked himself. He shook his head, he was kidding himself. He knew he had an interest in Arthur. How could he not, he saw the sides of Arthur other people didn’t even know existed. A gentle focus in him, a creature of habit...a merciful killer. Arthur was like honeycomb, hard exterior but once you get past the bees, what’s inside is, well sweet. Charles decided instead of musing about Arthur’s delicate inner self he’d make sure that they were okay.

Arthur’s cot was empty and a quick check for Gilly confirmed that he’d ridden out with the others. Dammit, looks like he was getting drunk tonight.

 

Everyone was half-cut when he entered the saloon, Dutch was perched on the bar addressing his men and also a small gathering of women it seemed. He scanned the room but was accosted by a very jolly Javier who was shouting along to some song everyone was singing, jug of beer raised and sloshing about. Charles smirked, it was good to see the team let loose. The room was so loud he couldn’t pick out his friend’s voice and his eyes were darting round but people just kept getting in the way. By the time he’d managed to cross the distance of the room he’d sang a portion of some dirty tune, been chatted up by some buxom lass and nearly started a fight with someone who compared him to sweet potato; something about redskins and belonging in the ground.

He stood at the bar wondering if Arthur had just gone somewhere and wasn’t here at all, when he just about picked up light moaning and giggling. He leant to the side to peer through the doorway and saw the top of Arthur’s head as he kissed the woman’s neck. She giggled and mussed his hair. Charles felt his chest heave and relaxed the grip he had on his glass, conscious he might of cracked it had he seen anything more. Fuck it, this wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken a woman in jealousy, another body to release his pent up frustrations on, the pain he felt after hearing about how Arthur had that posh wife. The pretty girl he’d pretended was Arthur as he fucked the pain away.

Tonight was just going to have to be another one of those nights.

 

The evening went on and the jolly atmosphere made Charles’s mood all the more exaggerated. He had a curvy girl swinging off his arms, dancing along to the crowd singing. Men stamping their feet and clapping to create the rhythm. Charles felt like he was underwater, the only clarity through sight and sound was Arthur. Watching as he twirled the young blonde under his arm, a warm smile greeted her as she turned to face him. Charles had never seen him dance like this before. 

The curvy girl grinned at Charles pointlessly, he moved ignorantly, just playing the part, he stared at Arthur longingly, unaware of his obviousness thanks to the liquor, though the girl hadn’t seemed to notice. Arthur and his woman both turned on the spot slowly clapping along to the tune, as he faced toward Charles his gaze lingered, the smile he’d been wearing was open and it was as though someone had snapped and stopped the whole room. Everyone danced on full of joy but they couldn’t stop looking at each other. 

When the song ended Charles walked outside to grab a cigarette, ignoring what his girl was saying to him leaving her stood annoyed and confused, he knew Arthur was out here.

Stood with his shirt collar unbuttoned and pomaded hair loose about his forehead. He was glowing.

“Hey.” His eyes darted up, he wasn’t wearing his hat and yet he still hid behind it.

“Hay is for horses,” Charles inwardly slapped a hand to his face, his witty banter taking the night off. Arthur’s polite nod only made it worse.

“You seem to be having fun? I haven’t seen you dance before.” He managed to say that with a cool tone, but he felt as though he was blurting statements out just so he could speak to him.

“Could say the same of you,” Arthur didn’t pass his match after he lit the fag, as he blew it out he realised he hadn’t shared. He was trying so hard not to give himself away that he was just being rude now. Charles noticed the match drop to the floor without a second thought.

“So you going to stay the night, with that girl, with the fair hair?” He tried not to sound so interested.

“I guess, s’not the prettiest but she’ll do.” Arthur said coldly blowing out smoke. “Like I said the other day, gotta take what you can get sometimes, take what’s aroun’ ya.” He glanced at Charles for a second that made a fire start in the hunter’s belly.

“Plus, I ain’t got no better offers.” Arthur seemed to be flirting, Charles thought, no, he’s reading into things because he’s drunk and lusting.

Charles just stared at him. The passion in him was clawing at his ribs to get to the outlaw.


	12. Chapter 12

“I...” Charles started, “I...uh- oh, urm, your girl, she’s moved on.” He spotted her dancing round Dutch gaily through the window as Molly pulled a sour face. Arthur turned his head to glance through the glass, the warm orange glow painting his face leaving the shadows to illustrate the outline of his cheekbones, his jawline and the lips curled into a snicker.

“Well I...if I’da’ known I was gonna lose her that quick I woulda’ got ‘er in one of ‘em rooms sooner!” He seemed amused rather then annoyed. “Oh here look!” He pointed at the window, the smoking cigarette still between his fingers, “That Bill’s got your girl!”

He looked at Charles shaking his head in disbelief, “What a night, I’m no dandy boy but if the girls are that drunk they gone switch us up like that then there pr’olly weren’t no point in tryin’ to bed them.”

Charles wasn’t particularly listening, he felt like a child. Beaming at Arthur as he radiated before him.

“I’ma call it a night, w’bout you?” Charles nodded. He was only here for one thing, one person. No need to stay once he left.

 

The camp was even quieter then when Charles left. It was dark now too. Arthur sat by the fire and put hay on the embers and blew life back into it. After a few more sprinkles of hay and some wood the flames licked high and warmed the men that sat beside it. Charles took sips from the whiskey Arthur had produced from his jacket hip-flask. They reminisced on some of the mundane details of the night.

“Damn got just a kiss and that’s it, I’m tellin’ ya Charles, somethin’s gotta give. I’m just a man y’know,” Arthur joked. “If Karen keeps pushin’ she might just get more then she wished for.”

“I know what you mean, sometimes you just want to connect. Most of the time anyone can help suppress it but sometimes it just drives you mad.” Charles spoke to the fire.

Arthur looked at him, Charles wasn’t usually openly emotional, well not in this way at least.

“Is it gettin’ to you now?” He asked earnestly.

“It has been, for a while now. I just feel like I can’t escape it.” He didn’t avert his eyes from the glowing embers dancing before him.

“Me too- well, I guess you know that,” nervousness and an air of humour light on Arthur’s voice.

Charles face allowed a little smile. He exhaled deeply and flicked his eyes toward Arthur’s. They sat close by, holding each other’s gaze as they had habit to do so.

“you can connect with me Charles, don’t really know what I can do bu-” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

“Kiss me, Arthur.” Charles’s heart was thumping hard. He was taking a risk, perhaps he could blame it on the whiskey if-  
Arthur leant forward suddenly and gently pressed his lips against Charles’s, just as quickly as they’d touched he pulled back suddenly.

“I don’t, I don’t know why I did that.” Despite Charles’s request he felt as though he’d exposed a secret.

“Yes you do. You feel it too don’t you?” His brown eyes staring into Arthur’s confused face. Arthur nodded and put his face in his hands, slowly rubbing at his eyes and temples.

“I don’t know what I feel Charles, we shouldn’t be-...shouldn’t be like this.” He muffled through his fingers.

“I didn’t think I was until, well I can’t really tell from when, but by the time I’d realised...well it was too late for me.”

Arthur stood and paced slightly, not ever considering a possibility that Charles would reciprocate his feelings. He’d just kissed him, as chaste as it was, it still had him feeling giddy.

“We can’t be talkin’ bout this here.” He held his hand out and pulled Charles up from the fire. Leading him by the hand down to the lake front. The gentle hum of insects and the fresh smell of dewy grass had Arthur feeling so alive. The moon reflecting softly on the surface of the rippling water. Out of sight of camp, Arthur cupped Charles’s face, his fingers gently stroking the fuzzy hair on his cheek. He stepped closer and pressed their lips together. Charles’s lips open and wet deepening the kiss as he grasped at the back of Arthur’s shirt, loosing his grip and running flat palms down his back and pulling him closer.

Arthur’s eyes shut, a soft expression on his face as he let himself melt into the moment, running a hand through Charles’s soft hair. No space between them he felt like he was floating. Their embrace was so tender he took a moment to open his eyes when their lips parted.

“I-….”

“Ssh.” Charles rubbed his nose against Arthur’s. Lids heavy, they looked into each other’s eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. The serenity interrupted by the faint sound of a drunken chorus returning to camp. Molly could be heard ragging Dutch and the others gathered by the campfire as Javier began to strum out a familiar tune. They headed back up the bank and the grassy slope to join the others.

The singing gang members oblivious to their return. John was shouting some dribble toward his family’s tent as Abigail came at him finger pointed and hair a mess. She whisper shouted at him, until he shrugged and turned to the music.

“Where’d you two come from?” He stumbled sideways as he spoke.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout you damn fool? We came in behin’e you? Arthur’s voice gravelled, John looked between them and hiccuped then walked with them to sit with the others. The rest of the gang didn’t seem to notice if Arthur and Charles had been with them on the ride back or not. Arthur glanced at Charles who sat across from him, he smirked and beamed down at his own boots.

Understandably the next morning the only risers were those who didn’t drink their weight that night. Abigail started the coffee as Jack chased Cain around with a flower crown. Swanson who was up, was no use at all, he sat pondering his sins facing out towards the morning sun.

Charles woke with relative ease. No matter how much he drank, he’d always be an early bird. A force of habit from life alone on the road. Javier snored loudly beside him, mouth wide open and drool pooling where it had dribbled down his cheek. He had to get up, there was no resting with that racket assaulting his eardrums.

He got up and grabbed some coffee sitting not too far from Abigail who was mending something with a needle and thread, instructing Jack not to touch certain things, without looking up in the way only mothers can do. Jack noticing that everyone was out for the count was being nosey and peering into books and looking at their photographs. It was hard to imagine that Arthur was part of this scenario once before. A gentle peace, watching his little boy play while his mother would bustle around them. That peace taken from him so violently, he couldn’t imagine the excitement he would of had the ride to their homestead, only to find two graves instead.

He looked the large blanketed shape slumbering underneath the wagon canopy. He knew Arthur said he wouldn’t want that ever again, but what if it found him like it had last time. He could not get in the way of Arthur’s second chance of a family. Jack was now investigating his father who had been banished from their tent that night and had slept rough on the floor. He nudged him with his foot and then a stick before laying his flower crown ever-so-gently on his greasy hair.

Charles simpered as Jack continued to skip amongst the men.

“You ever wantin’ kids Mr Smith?” Abigail questioned focusing with a furrowed brow as she undid a knot in her thread.

“No, my life is far too dangerous for them.” He stated, “Although Jack here is very well cared for and I know you wouldn’t have him put in any danger.” Charles felt it necessary to add that detail so as not to offend her. He wasn’t really well acquainted with her and didn’t wish to upset someone who’d been there far longer then he had.

“So if we finally made it to wherever it is Dutch keeps promisin’ then what?” She glanced at him.

“No, I just don’t see it.” He also referred to Tahiti but he wasn’t about to say it out-loud.

Arthur stirring caught his eye. A rustle came from nearby as Sadie, slightly bedraggled joined them at the table. “What a night huh?” Her twangy voice huskier then usual. Abigail huffed, reminded by John’s not so impressive behaviour. “Sorry, I guess it must suck watchin’ us all wander off.”

“It’s not that at all, it’s John, thinkin’ he can just come back and give me some horse-shit and climb into bed but then in the mornin’ go on about how jack ain’tt his an’...ughh it just gets me frustrated y’know?”

“Jake weren’t a bad guy but he’d get like that, men and their drink!” Sadie sipped her coffee with eyes closed, savouring the bitter taste.

“It ain’t just the drink though sad’e it’s jus’ men. Lyin, cheatin’ stinkin’ bastards. They’re jus’ big babies really.”

Charles coughed slightly and turned his head to see the two women struck from their gossip, they grinned at each other.

“Sorry Charles,” Sadie, snickered, “You’re different, you an’ Arthur actually, I’d say Jav too, he’s not bad either.”

“So why do we always get the shits?” Abigail giggled, “Nah, I love John, but he could stand to learn somethin’ from y’all.”

A rough voice joined the conversation, “What you gals natterin’ about?” He lifted a leg to step over the bench, straddling it sideways, giving a sigh as he dropped down heavily. 

“Us, ‘gals’, are jus’ talkin’ ‘bout men, ain’t we Charles?” Sadie said matter-of-factly. Crossing her arms across her frilly shirt. Arthur raised an eyebrow as he poured himself a steaming cup of coffee.

“Talkin’ about men huh? You part of this conversation ay Charles?”

“Unfortunately, I daren’t say anything, I’m just minding my own.” A smile spread across his features.

“I miss our banter guys!” Sadie enthused, “Y’know, I think we could swing it with Dutch an’ go an have oursel’s another huntin’ trip?!” She pleaded.

“What do you think Mr Morgan? Think we could find the time?” Charles teased her.

“Hey you can only take Sadie if you make it worth ma’ while.” Abigail cut in, “You have any idea what it’s like listenin’ to their whinin’?” She jerked her head toward the three young women asleep and snoring heavily. “You ain’t takin’ the only decent conversation I have away without somethin’ in return.” She held out her hand and indicated with her fingers for payment.

“Alright alright Miss Roberts!” Arthur held his hands up defensively, “How about we getcha’ somethin’ fancy? I’m thinkin’ perhaps we hit the grizzlies, get some bear pelts, pick up a few bucks in the big valley and maybe, if ya lucky, we’ll let you keep a pelt for yoursel’. Could even, if we feel so inclined, pick up one ‘a’ those little carved critters in Strawberry for Jackie.”

Charles felt his heart twitch at the last promise. He’s so generous, he just wants to wrap his arms around his and press little kisses over his face.

“That’ll do,” Abigail pursed her lips nodding approvingly.

“Settled then, get your stuff folks, just gonna run it by the boss then we’ll set out.”

Charles watched him swagger away and turned to Sadie who was grinning ear-to-ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kiss by the lake was written with 'Elina - Here with me' on in the background :)


	13. Chapter 13

The mountains were chilly, but they were prepared. Wrapped up to the jaws with thick and woolly coats, their breath floating above their heads like small clouds. The three riders stopped and looked across the snow to see a large brown bear.

The beast's movements slow and powerful, each paw thudding into the snow silently, sending a ripple of muscle and fur around it’s shoulders. Sadie brushed a strand of blond hair back underneath her raccoon fur hat. Her pixie features hadn’t relaxed the smile she’d been wearing since heading out of camp. She pulled her scoped rifle from the saddle holster and loaded the chamber, a side glance toward her companions to check, then she took the shot. A good shot but she was still getting better, the bullet tore through the bears neck marking the snow with hot blood.

At least it was still instant, she thought. She turned smugly at Arthur and Charles. “So I believe that’s two for Charles, two for me and oh, none for you there Arthur?” She reached out a hand to Charles who slapped it and sneered at Arthur playfully.

“Oh fu-,” Arthur reached inside his pocket and pulled out two cigarettes and handed them to the gloating woman. “I ain’t bettin’ with you no more Ms Adler, I think you swindlin’ me here now.”

“Don’t get your breeches in a twist now Morgan,” She picked her reigns and clucked Bob on down through the uneven white slope towards her prize.

“She’s got some balls you have to admit it.” Charles’s voice reassuring and gentle. He looked pointedly at Arthur until he got a sigh in return.

“That’s true, she’s good company, it’s good ridin’ us three.” He offered Charles a cigarette and looked woefully at the few smokes left rattling in the box. Charles struck a match, shielding it from the cold wind with his coat. Arthur shifted Gilly over, leaning across his saddle and tucking Charles’s hair away from the flame. It was the first physical interaction they’d had since their kiss. Arthur hadn’t acted differently toward him, but they weren’t in any rush. Especially with an audience present for most of the time they’re together.

“Thanks,” Charles spoke around the fag. He lit Arthur’s as he was close enough. “Having to do your job now see?” Arthur shook his head with a grin, taking a puff and then blowing it toward Charles.

“Hey!” Sadie shouted from afar, “You boys helpin’ me or ya jus’ gone sit there dilly-dallyin’?”

 

Charles had been showing them how to prepare the skins, they couldn’t do a lot what with the cold weather. A filling dinner of potatoes and beans and some beers that had to defrost slightly by the fire. Sadie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a swig of her bottle before letting out an impressive belch.

“Sometimes I think you to be more manly then me Ms Adler,” Arthur nudged her with his shoulder. She sat between them both, feeling protected as though they were two strong walls. She didn’t need protecting though she told herself, she knew with these two she was an equal. A level of respect no one else on the camp gave her.

“Not manly, just not as dainty,” She winked in the firelight.  
“What? I ain’t- Charles?” He laughed looking across to see if he agreed.

“She does have a point though. No hear me out, you are very much Hosea’s son, Hosea is, I don’t really know how to put it. He’s man of society on the outside, learned and polite. He keeps the crook behind proper etiquette and quotations from fancy books. You have an element of that.”

“So I ain’t sittin’ scratchin’ my ass and spittin’ up? I wouldn’ta’ said ‘dainty’” He looked mildly annoyed by the word.

“Trust me Arthur, no one is questioning your masculinity, you’re built like a brick shit-house and your voice is so deep it feels like the grounds shaking sometimes.”

Sadie, slowly pulled the bottle away from her lips and darted her eyes between the two men and rested them on Charles. Arthur looked to Sadie before looking back at him.

“Hah, if you say so friend.”

They set up their tents, Sadie had acquired one for herself and fared them goodnight before slipping into it. Her lantern still glowing from inside and the faint sound of turning pages informed the other two she was still awake.

Arthur looked around Charles to see her silhouette flickering in the light. Led down and from what he could hear, browsing a book. Her feet towards the entrance of her tent. Charles looked across to Arthur who, satisfied they were mostly alone, nodded at him letting a warm smile wash over his features. He shuffled toward him so that they were connected from foot to shoulder. Charles nudged his knee tentatively.

“Arthur,” He near whispered, “can I see some of your drawings?” Not expecting him to ask that, Arthur sits up and searches his coat, then reached behind him to grab his satchel. He held it close, hesitating slightly. 

“S’just doodles really nothin’ special so don’t be expectin’-”

“It’s okay Arthur, I just want to see.” He reached out and slowly took the journal from his uncertain hands. He let the book flick open and began to turn the pages, he glanced up to Arthur every now and then who smiled awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers trying to hide his shyness. Charles flicked forward to the latest pages and saw a scratchy drawing of a moon reflecting on the water. Most of the drawings had little descriptions or diary entries. This drawing only said “Charles.”

Charles’s heart warmed as he handed the book back after having a good browse. Arthur placed it back, hidden inside his satchel. Perhaps he is the only one to of ever had the privilege to see yet another secret shade of Arthur.

“How can someone so, rough, be so gentile?” Charles’s soft eyes exploring Arthur’s striking blues.

“I guess, well I was made this way I think...the stuff inside, I think, that’s just me.” He felt nothing but honest before the hunter. He was a smart man, if he didn’t know then who would.

“Does it ever bother you, this life?.”  
“Of course. Dutch an’ Hosea were havin’ me kill people from a young age. Bu’ the same time, they clothed an’ fed. Gave me a family when mine failed me. They were then when I lost ma’ own family. I care ‘bout them all. Even that fat fuck Pearson.” Arthur ran his lip under his teeth, watching the ash and embers jump from the flames and then gazing at the dirt around their feet.

“O’course Micah can go fuck ‘imself.” They both nodded at that. “I don’t think myself a monster or nothin’ like that but I would thoroughly enjoy tyin’ that rat bastard to the tracks and sittin’ back with my feet up for a bit ‘o’ light relaxation.”

“But he is a bastard though isn’t he. I heard him refer to you as a wild animal, whenever Dutch needs to, he pulls your chain and you kneel before him. He thinks loyalty is submission. Asshole. I wanted to knock his jaw when he bragged about being able to pull the chain with just a few words in Dutch’s ear.”

“Dutch knows what he’s doin’” Arthur said trying to sound confident in those words. “Tho’ I am quite wild, Ms Grimmshaw could attest to that.

“They don’t see you how I do though. I’ve watched you wrestle a man three times your size and yet you still help Jack pick flowers, you gossip with the girls and you help Uncle to bed on more occasions then is necessary.” Charles took Arthur’s hand.

“Arthur, you’re the most considerate and tender person I know. What they think is ‘wild’ I see as protective, fiercely loyal, scarred by your losses and brave. You are so brave. No other man could live your life and still be as compassionate.”

Arthur sniffed heavily, he let a rough cough slip and squeezed Charles’s hand appreciatively. He blinked away any the tears that threatened to reveal themselves. Luckily it was only Charles. He rested his head against his shoulder, the fire crackling peacefully, he closed his eyes and breathed in the moment. Charles’s hair tickling his face slightly, making him readjust his position nuzzling his cheek into his friend.

“You forgot sensitive, he’s a big ol’ softie too.” Sadie’s sleepy voice from behind the canvas had them both sit up and turn. Her lantern had been put out, she must have been trying to sleep, listening to their conversation.

“I ain’t soft, you must be dreamin’ Lady.” Arthur teased drowsily, leaning back into Charles. Confident that she wasn’t going to come out and see them.

“Accept it, don’t, me an’ Charles know the truth.”

Charles pressed a kiss in his blond hair and whispered, “You are a big softie, Arthur.”

“You’re a fool Mr Smith,” He whispered back.

 

They set off early that morning, trying to scout some bears as the descended the Grizzlies. One caught them by surprise chasing both Sadie and Arthur whose horses galloped fearfully past Charles and Taima who stood still unnerved. Taima’s ears flat back but trusting in her riders shot. He raised his bow with well practised and firm arms. Squinting one eye shut he took a breath and released the arrow on the exhale. The bear had charged, paws thundering forward and claws and jaw bared in frenzy before it stopped dead with the arrow sticking out one of it’s eyes.

“You really have to teach me the bow,” Sadie exclaimed in amazement. She dismounted Bob and went to inspect the kill. She came and slapped him on the back. “Five bearskins, Dutch’ll be mighty impressed by this.”

“I think we should celebrate in Strawberry, how’d y’all feel ‘bout a night in a warm bed. I think we deserve it.” Arthur dusted his hands together and rested them on his hips leaning on his left leg. Charles cleared his throat, if only he knew how damn handsome he was.

“That depends Arthur, I ain’t sharin’, I want ma’ own room an’ all.” She pulled the brim of her hat down before placing each hand either side of the saddle and swinging her self onto Bob before gathering the reigns.

“I think that sounds fair Sadie,” Charles followed suit, pulling Taima up to keep pace with the gelding. After slinging the bearskin they head into town and sell four of the pelts. The take is good and they agree to spend some time before they return to camp to make sure they bring home a deer or two. Sadie checks them into the hotel and stays for a long bath while Arthur scans the shops, trying to remember where he’d seen the little animal toys. Charles followed him absent-mindedly, gazing into windows and plodding behind him.

He picked out a wooden dog that had a similar shape to Cain. He’d love that, thought Arthur. They headed up to the hotel and found Sadie in the lobby examining the taxidermy.  
“Can’t decide if it’s creepy or fascinatin’” She cocked her head, staring up into the stuffed bear’s open jaws.

“I think they’re nicer to look at alive.” Charles contributed, “From a distance mind you.”

“So we got rooms or are we movin’ on?” Asked Arthur.

“Well the guy at the desk was kinda weird so I checked us in as Mr and Mrs Kilgore with our huntin’ guide. So who wants to be Mr Kilgore?”

“I’m not sure a native and a white woman would go down too well.” Charles inputted.

“Okay so I’ll be Kilgore, but what does that mean for rooms?”

“Well there is still two rooms,” Sadie said looking at her boot, “Jus’ means one of you might be on the floor is all.”

“Christ woman, the whole point was t’ah not be on the floor, I’ll just go an’ explain to the clerk that we’ve had a misunderstandin’”

“Arthur you know better then that, you’ll make him suspicious and we don’t need no authorities sniffing around.” Charles’s voice the calm reason.

“Also I don’t want no creeper sneakin’ in ma’ room tonight thinkin’ I’m alone, y’know?” She dramatically threw her hands in the air.  
“That too I guess,” Gruffly giving in to Sadie, Arthur gets the other key and books himself a bath. Charles books one after and sits with Sadie at the local saloon. They ignore the strange looks they get and order a couple of beers.

“Been nice bein’ with you two,” She slurped in her usual fashion, the other women at the bar looking disgusted over the tops of their fans. She noticed and belched in their direction. “They’re jus’ jealous that they’re stuck whorin’ an’ I’m out livin’ my life.” Sadie glanced towards Charles. “Why do men choose these girls instead of lookin’ for a partner? You’d get much more out of it, plus it’s free?!”

“I can’t speak for other men, perhaps most of the men who use their services are married and have children. I haven’t seen that sort of thing stop someone before.” He looked down at his glass and then took a few gulps, grimacing slightly at the bitterness. “For me it has been more of a convenience, when you want something, you go out and get it. Even if that means settling for cheap women in a random saloon somewhere.” The last part trailed off silently as he realised he was saying too much.

“settlin’ over what?” Sadie watched Charles for his reply but he had turned to the entrance as Arthur walked in. Clean beige shirt, the material clinging tightly enough to emphasise the power of the body underneath but loose enough there’d be plenty to grasp. His eyes travelled down the braces to his worn denim jeans, they lingered at the top of his thighs, where the jeans were the tightest. The outlaw was a sight, tall and strong frame with dusty, blond hair freshly cut round the sides leaving the top long and slicked back. A short layer of facial hair on his cheeks and chin. Arthur was perfect.

“It’s good Charles, they did ma’ hair an’ beard too.” He sat down and the fresh scent of lemon and herbs followed him.

“Why Mr Morgan, you scrub up well don’tcha!” Sadie almost reddened.

 

Arthur and Sadie had gotten through a few shots of bourbon before Charles reappeared. Sadie once again lost the conversation to another long stare as Arthur watched Charles sit down between them. His blue eyes scanning him top to toe. Charles’s hair braided from his forehead down and the sides loose about his shoulders.

“They do that?” Arthur squeaked, his voice catching slightly.

“No, I did,” his voice deep and controlled but his eyes telling of a slight shyness, “keeps it out of my face.”

“You’ll have to teach me that too! Bow and braidin’ lessons.” She was tipsy and in good spirits. They sat and told tales. Sadie of her life with Jake, Charles of his time on the road alone and Arthur of times when it was just the Old Guard. As the night progressed they all danced together and sang songs with the strangers in the bar. Sitting outside smoking their cigarettes they smiled to each other.

“I wish the girls were like this, I really do.”

“You’re not alone there,” Arthur agreed, “But it’s nice. I like our huntin’ trips.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some racist comments. Love the dynamic in my head of these three! Sorry for the wait!

For what is a mostly dry town, Strawberry got wild at night. The local bar which mostly consisted of tourists, travellers and local women, soon became rowdy and bustling. Hot bodies limiting the space to gather. Arthur’s vision was sloshing around like he was coming up out of water but he was just underneath the surface. An attractive girl leant over a sweaty, fat man who licked his blistered lips. Despite the clear advertisement for venereal disease, the woman leant over and teased him with her breasts, heaving, the corset clinging onto them and exposing the briefest glimpse of nipple pink.

Sadie swam into view, thrusting a glass of dark liquid into Arthur’s hand. “As long as you’re standin’ you’re drinkin’!” She was beaming, her features lit up as she skipped off. His eyes following her as she located Charles and took his hands in hers and began to dance. It was messy and Charles for once, looked genuinely unsure, clumsy feet trying but not keeping up with the fluid movements of his dance partner. Sadie threw her head back and giggled as she tried to spin them round, Charles still like prey before the bow, she swang round and bumped into him giggling hysterically.

A snivelling, spindly man stepped toward her and put himself between her and Charles. She politely smiled and went to move round him, he stepped sideways to block her, the sly grin on his face gave him a greasy appearance. Charles stood and watched, knowing not to undermine her.

“Okay,” She nodded, “You gonna be like that, that’s okay. Now me and ma brothers here are havin’ a good night, you best be on your way now.” She returned the ugly smile and rested her hand on her holster, tapping her fingers on the steel.

“Hey now Lady, now I got ‘nough money for your brothers.” He looked to Charles. “Tell your dog to back down now, or me an’ the boys will take it out an’ put it down.” His accent thick and twangy..

A lumbering bold man coming to his side, “Y’know what we do to wild dogs friend? Savage beasts.”

Arthur closed the gap between him and the commotion quickly, despite his blurrry vision and lack of steady motor control.

“Fellas, I’m gonna need you to come outside.” He said, a friendly sarcastic tone as he indicated with his hand. “Nah c’mon now, ‘specially you big guy.”

They looked betwixt themselves. “Alright, you must be even dumber then you look mate.” The big man had a rough British accent, his meaty, hairless head shining in the bright room.

“All this because I wouldn’t dance with them?” Sadie looked to Charles who shrugged, not surprised by the racism that often pulled him back into focus in places like this. Any excuse to put more violence on his people. The hatred once riled him, it still did, but he had learnt the hard way. Standing up for himself in his youth had nearly gotten him killed. Arthur however, Arthur was someone who had always felt he was able to defend himself, because for all he was; outlaw, murderer, thief; he was still a white man.

There he was, defending Charles and Sadie against battles they faced all the time. Charles could tell it bothered her too, Arthur’s view of injustice was their everyday lives. 

They followed the altercation outside, the two men squaring up to Arthur, whose sleeves were rolled up. Sharp tongue biting at them, urging them to push his buttons.  
“C’mon now Arthur, lets just go, ain’t worth it.” Sadie says, like a tired mother calling her kids in for dinner while they deflect her and continue playing. Her arms folded and hip sticking out, she rolls her eyes as Arthur taunts them again. She looks to Charles who stares deadpan.

He steps to his drunken friend, a firm hand around his bicep, his back to the two racists. “Lets go Arthur, you know we’ll only have to leave here if this-” He jerks his head backwards, “ends the way I can only imagine it will.”

“Hey fella!” The skinny one shouts, “This happenin’ or you yellow-bellyin’ outta this?” He snaps and the bigger man joins in

“I was hoping to kick some ass tonight, your redskin friend will be a nice bonus.”

“An’ to top it off, we could take it in turns on the feisty one afterwards.” They snicker to each other before turning their attention back towards Charles and Arthur.

“For Christ sake,” Sadie muttered under her breath, “If ya’ want somethin’ done...” She pulled out her pistol, cocking it and pointing it at the men. “Y’all finished yet? All this struttin’ is makin’ ma’ head sore. You two get over here,” She flicked the gun, calling her friends like the errant school-children. The other men continued to simper as Arthur huffed and walked to Sadie, Charles behind him, twitching his eyebrows up as his eyes met hers.

“As for you both,” She turned the gun towards the snickering, “You best git, before I come to ma’ last nerve.”

They raised their hands, looking more amused then concerned. Still grinning they walk backwards toward the side door of the bar. Too slow for Charles’s liking. He pulled his revolver out and smirked as they scurried back indoors like the rats they were.

He turned to Sadie to comment when she whipped a finger up, “Ain’t a word from either of ya.”

“But what did I-” Charles began to protest,

“You could’a made quicker work of that, you two are as bad as each other, now we should get to that hotel.” She holstered her weapon and glanced at Arthur who had stumbled off to the nearest tree for relief. The back of him relaxing, an inaudible sigh of pleasure, the only kind that comes from a drunken piss.

 

They arrive at the hotel stumbling and giggling. Arthur the drunkest between them. He winked at the hotelier and then turned his affections to the stuffed bear.

“Y-you’re so, ugh,” He slumped onto the taxidermy animal, “Damn, beautiful.” His body dropping and his lids heavy.

“Charles!” Sadie called, trying hard to pull Arthur up by the arm, struggling as laughter had her bending over him, trying to stay upright. They were a mess. The bizarre man behind the desk was leaning over with spectacles placed just so on the end of his nose. 

“Charles!” She huffed exasperatedly. Sadie fell onto Arthur after the second attempt, his weight greater then hers, but even heavier with unconsciousness calling him to slumber. Between them and all of the bannisters on the staircase, they finally get Arthur into bed. Shoes off and hat placed on a chair beside the wardrobe.

“You got it from here?” Sadie rested two hands either hip and leant back to let her spine click. A quick nod and she gently kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for stickin’ up for me, though I don’t need it mind you! But I do appreciate it, even this idiot too.” She kicked the socked foot hanging over the side of the bed and getting a grunt in return.

She left with a click of the door and Charles glanced around the room, he was pleasantly drunk, but was aware of the uncomfortable question in his mind. Arthur was sprawled across the double bed, there was no way of just sharing the bed at a ‘polite’ distance. He looked for the bedroll that had been mentioned before. Damn it, Arthur’s stuff wasn’t in here, perhaps it was still with Gilly somewhere. A long sigh and he resigned himself to the bed, unable to climb under the covers that were being stuck by the older man’s spread-eagled limbs, he hoped he wouldn’t mind. Charles was pretty sure he’d be the first awake giving the state of Arthur, gently snoring beside him.

Charles began to drift off as the bed shifted, the smell of whiskey suddenly stronger and the press of a warm body beside his. Rolling into Arthur’s warmth, no blankets needed. They slept the night, still in their clothes, drunk and snoring heavily, pressed tightly to each other.

 

The archer did indeed wake first, no surprise there. He swung his legs over the bed and rubbed his face in his hands. Wishing he had better self control, the sickness in his stomach was pressing upwards. He felt rough. Charles stood, fists rubbing his eyes as he headed for the door, nearly tripping on the duffel bag in the way. Stubbing his toe on the solid bars that were inside. Arthur’s camp kit and bedroll. He scratched a stubbled cheek and shook his head. He didn’t often get in states like that, clumsy and forgetful, but there was something about being in their little trio, Sadie’s mischievous antics, Arthur’s upbeat and chirpy behaviour, only brought on around her. As if her willingness to make the most of her life was a contagious disease. An illness that had infected Charles that night, getting loose and dancing being a symptom.

He exited the room and knocked gently on Sadie’s door, leaning against the bright wood. Expecting a groan or light threat he nearly toppled as she swung the door open, fully dressed and toothbrush sticking out her mouth.

“Howdy!” She spun to return to the basin on the wash-table. Her blonde hair dancing round her shoulders, glowing in the bright sunlight that streamed through her window. Charles smiled, he’d taken women before, not giving in to his real temptations until Arthur. Seeing this glowing angel, his friend, made him appreciate her in a way he didn’t usually think of other women. She was truly beautiful, inside and out. She reminded him of Arthur, strong, opinionated and fiercely loyal to the last breathe.

“Watcha’ starin’ at Smith,” Her eyes darting sidewards as she brushed her teeth, mouthful of foam as the tooth-powder made her salivate. A finger swiping at a white blob on her shirt as she spat into the bowl. Checking her smile one last time before turning her attention to him. “That big lump still asleep?” She grinned as she sat back on the bed.

“Mm” He turned and sat beside her. “How are you so awake?” A dull ache rang in his head.

“Oh I’ been up for hours. I guess I gotta better constitution for it then you guys,” Smug, “Nah, I just stick ta’ the beers all night. Y’all drink whatever gets put in front of ya’.”

“I recall you giving us both a variety of drinks, no, forcing actually?”

“Yeah, well I like to see ya’s let loose. Drinkin’ with the girls at camp just ends in tears or petty fights,” Her eyebrows knotting together in thought, “Wait, you guys do that too...well, at least you haven’t cried on me yet.”

Charles looked to her and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to draw from her upbeat and sober mind, he hoped he wouldn’t cry in front of her, but he found himself doing more and more things he wouldn’t normally do. Like Arthur, they still haven’t talked about the kiss, it seemed an age away, desperate for another.

Sadie watched him, a small smile on her lips, she looked to the blackened mirror and ran a finger through her golden mane. “Say Charles..” One leg in front of the other as she twisted toward him, hair twirling in one hand. “Fancy doin’ some of that braidin’ for me?”

He couldn’t help but smile and patted the space in front of him on the mattress. “Don’t know if I’ll be any good, haven’t done this for someone else before.”

Giddily she plonked herself down. As he plaited her locks she fidgeted but Charles dismissed it.

“Have you had breakfast yet, I didn’t see if they did food here or not?” 

“Yeah I was hungry after draggin' all your stuff-” She stopped, body stiffening slightly, clearly not meaning to mention or begin to mention that last part. Charles realised she would’ve seen them curled into each other. He opened his mouth as he thought of a reply before she continued.

“Should’a popped it in there before we went out really, would’a saved you havin’ to share.” Giving him an out, the archer tried to mask his sigh of relief, having not even talked with Arthur about their feelings; he wouldn’t know what to say or what was safe to say to Sadie. You never know what’s in people’s minds about other people.

A soft rap on the door, followed by the gentle creek as a sleepy Arthur grunted into view. “Thought I heard some kinda’ powwow goin’ on in here,” Looking at the intricate twists on Sadie’s crown with an impressed huff, “Should’a brought some embroidery and we could'a made a real mornin’ ‘o’ this.” Despite the hangover, his snarky humour still came out to play.

“They do breakfast here?" A hand rested on his growling stomach, "I’m starvin’ after last night.” He looked to Sadie, confusion in his eyes as she turned a very blushing shade of pink.


	15. Chapter 15

The ride back was pretty quiet, the two men suffered with their hangovers, the hot sun on their backs making it a nauseous journey. Sadie was mostly content. Had she mistook Arthur and Charles’s closeness for brotherly love? She watched them idly, the horses pulled close and heads turned slightly as they shared glances. Assuming she had just never seen it before and was just jumping to conclusions. 

They’d arrived in the Heartlands just as the sun began to set on them, near enough to Flat-Neck Station that they could hear the trains passing. Setting up camp, Charles stifled a yawn, covering his mouth in the crook of his elbow and blinking forcefully to try and stay awake.

“Tired?” Arthur looked to him, a gentle smile on his face, replied to with a nod. Arthur huffed and nodded also, unloading the doe he’d managed to shoot just as they crossed over from West Elizabeth.

“Mm...didn’t get much sleep last night.” Charles ran a hand through his thick hair and scratched above the ponytail it was pulled into.

Sadie who had lit up a cigarette suddenly spluttered on a sharp intake of breathe. “M’okay,” She wheezed, tapping her chest coughing again.

Arthur was oblivious, skinning the deer and cutting the meat so they could cook it over their campfire. Charles sat and fletched arrows, his go to fidget, Sadie’s awkwardness was worrying him. Last thing either of them needed was getting jumped in their sleep when they got back to camp.

They ate in silence. Arthur glancing between his two friends, wondering if perhaps he’d missed something, he kept his eyes low and tried not to let his insecurity show.

Once they’d eaten Sadie headed into her tent, the tension between the three was suffocating. Arthur slapped his thighs and got up to relieve himself. As he zipped his jeans he heard a crunch of twigs underfoot behind him.

“Hey.” Charles, blunt and to-the-point as always. He shuffled nervously with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Arthur turned slowly, eyebrows knotted in concern. “What is it?” Pulling his braces back over his shoulders.

“We need to talk, uh-” Damn it why couldn’t he speak. “It’s been a while, I understand if it’s just...” He looked down at the worn toes of Arthur’s boots. “A one-off, just conveni-”

“Charles Smith. You aren’t a convenience. If anythin’ you’re the opposite. You distract me.” Arthur’s face wrinkled into an earnest smile. His age washing away and drowning Charles in the honesty that lies beneath his rough exterior. “Damn biggest inconvenience in ma’ life beside Micah.”

“I’m not sure if this is going to be a compliment, or if this is your way of of telling me you’d like to kill me also?” The hunter’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Hah, nah’ want I’m tryin’ to say, but failin’,” Arthur stepped toward Charles, “Is that I can’t focus, I’ve been meanin’ to speak to you, but it’s been-”  
“Hard?”

“Yeah, didn’t know what you were thinkin’ your so hard to read sometimes.”

“I get that.” Charles flicked his eyes up at Arthur, lip between his teeth, the jittery feeling that had been planted itself in him was blooming. They stood in one of their silent stares, Arthur’s mouth twitched into a grin, open and about to fill the silence with a poor attempt at humour. Charles closed the distance between them and gently placed a hand on the back of his neck, fingers brushing through the short hair that met his touch.

They kissed softly, deep and gentle. Charles could feel his heart-rate running away with itself, his hand slipping from his neck and gripping Arthur’s shirt, the other arm wrapping round his back and pulling him close. Panting and desperate, both hands found their way to his ass and he pressed his strained jeans against Arthur. The older man pulling away looking shy all of a sudden.

“Charles I...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t...urm.”

“It’s okay, sorry, it’s new for me too, I just, God I want you. I’m sorry if that’s too much”

“No, it’s just...I mean I-”

“It’s okay,” Charles chuckled and placed a hand on his friend’s stubbly cheek. “I get it.”

 

As they arrived at camp, Lenny shouted a greeting, slapping Arthur’s hand as Gilly trotted past him. Arthur headed into the camp, seeking out Jack, the wooden toy poking him from the inside of his jacket.

“Arthur, m’boy!” Dutch cut him off with a hand round his shoulders, directing him towards his tent where Micah sat sneering.

Charles shook his head from a distance. Dutch’s attack dog, ready to do his bidding.

 

Dutch, Hosea and Arthur were huddled talking, perhaps even for a moment, laughing. Charles watched them with a faint smile. ‘The Old Guard’, Arthur had said they used to be. There was something comforting, watching the interaction, a hope that Dutch was maybe just pushing them because he loved his family and wanted the best for them. Not all of it the manipulation of Micah in his ear and the sheer pressure of making their way out of a changing world that wanted them dead. Maybe.

When Arthur had returned that afternoon, half-beaten to death, Charles tried hard to keep his ass on the log by the fire. Not wanting to startle the others and draw attention. He gave it till he heard the sigh of Arthur’s cot under the sudden weight, to walk over.

“You good?” He was controlled. Arthur seemed fine, fine enough that he was scribbling away in his journal with only a moderate frown.

“’Part from ma’ face, I’m alright.” He didn’t look up from the pages.

“Sure?”

“Mm.” Still focused on his journal.

“I could make an ointment for-”

“Haven’t you got anythin’ better to be doin’ then botherin’ me?” His tone was sharp.

Charles held his lips in his teeth and nodded. 

 

Arthur gave up on the drawing as the lights exit started to strain his eyes. He was satisfied enough. Knowing it would be a long time before he could take a moment with Hosea and Dutch and just enjoy each other’s company. The afternoon ruined by the damn chase on the train. Dutch sending him off to take the brunt of every mission and plan. Hosea too, seeing no problem in it. Just being used constantly, fulfilling everyone’s needs. Thinking he was dumb enough to believe for a second that he was valued and wanted because they loved him. Arthur gritted his teeth. Had his son lived, he would never of played with his life so easily and without afterthought.

He’d thought about Charles, pressing against him up at Flatneck. Another person who wanted something. Another thing that will just hurt him. Charles had afterthought though. .He’d been an ass again. Fuck. Knowing that Charles would explain to him what he knew in his subconscious. He could hear him now, “You’re taking your feelings out on me. You’re scared. I understand.” Arthur huffed in defeat, cussing under his breath at how the man was getting to him from inside his head. Charles was found easily, Taima’s burrs as her rider fussed her behind her velvety ears.

He was always so beautiful. Long hair loose around his shoulders, close to his horse, so gentle and quiet. Charles was the perfect balance of fire and ice. Fierce and powerful, yet serene and wise. Guilt bubbled in Arthur’s belly. He hadn’t deserved to be shunned like that. It hurt more that Charles had just accepted it.

“Charles. Can I have a word?” His voice breaking the silence. The camp was all but asleep, the last few members awake, gathered around the main campfire.

“Mm.”

“Charles I shouldn’t of...” He paused, hoping the younger man would answer for him. Charles looked at him, deadpan expression. Not budging. “Shouldn’ta’ spoke to you like that, I just had a rough day. Gettin’ tired of bein’ used is all an’ I am...well, I’m afraid.”

A nod. Then the unrelenting stare resumed.

“I’ve been let down a lot,” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, cursing inwardly as he knew it was his tell and he knew Charles was reading him. “When I ain’t bein’ let down, I’m bein’ used and when that ain’t happenin’...I’m losin’ people. I’m sorry Charles.” He looked down ashamed.

Content with the outlaw’s apology. Charles jerked his head to call him over.  
Arthur nuzzled his head onto his shoulder. A wave of emotion came over him as he sniffed harshly. Charles leant his head against his as they stayed together.

Feeling himself calm down, Arthur let out a deep breathe. This was just what he needed. The smell of horses and Charles. Eyelashes fluttering shut, surrendering to the quiet of the early night.

“Get down there now,” The peace broken by a cheeky Irish accent.

“Why Mr Maguire, that’s no way to treat a lady.” Karen’s teasing voice sickly with flirtation.

Arthur straightened as they came into view.

“Oh! Evenin’ fellers! Y’might want to move your antisocial gatherin’ elsewhere, Karen’s a screamer!”

“Sean!” She cackled.

“You carry on.” Arthur chuckled, gently touching Charles’s elbow as they headed towards the main camp.

The fires crackled on despite their loneliness. It had gotten late and those that drank were in drunken slumber, those that hadn’t had turned in. Dutch’s gramophone still playing, muffled by the canvas tent. Arthur wasn’t sure how many times he could hear The Flower Duet in a week, but something about the elegance of the music created the perfect juxtaposition to the violence of day-to-day life in the gang.

“If it weren’t for your two left feet, I’d ask ya’ to dance Mr Smith.” His voice deep and eyes gleaming with romance.

“Why Mr Morgan, is that a proposition?”

Behind the Artillery wagon, they swayed. Close and smiling. In their own secret world, hands clasped together, warm bodies pleasantly pressed against one another. Not hearing the crackle as the song ended long before they stopped moving. Arthur leaning down to Charles’s face and placing sweet kisses against his soft lips. Truly at bliss. Whispering to each other, Arthur rambling about his black hair and dark skin, how tempting he was. How graceful he was, like a panther.

Sadie watched them from her bedroll, a glance around confirmed she was the only one. Watching them dance peacefully, privately, in the dark. Her eyes wet, reminded by the messy dances her and Jake would have, a sprig of wild parsley in his teeth as he hummed Carmen. A wobbly grin on her face as a tear trickled down her cheek, remembering the way his eyebrows wiggled at her as he spun her from the dinner prep.

Lighting a cigarette, she propped her head on her hand, staring at the two men. She took a drag, feeling nostalgic, fond memories filling her mind.

Karen’s cackling disrupting the moment and the passionate kiss by Arthur’s wagon. Sadie glanced back and Arthur was already on his cot, Charles gone, as Sean and his noisy woman graced the campsite with their present return.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some homophobic slurs and reference to the cornfield scene. Spoilers if you're not past Clemen's Point.

Trelawney again. At least that was what Charles had picked up. For a man who was a self-proclaimed magician, he was pretty shit at disappearing. Dutch summoned him. At least they’d be going together.

The caravan’s were quaint, perhaps it would be nice to live in something like this one day Charles mused to himself. Arthur tipped his hat at the drunkards outside, not being able to resist the scruffy dog that trotted up to them, he bent down to give it a good scratch behind the ears. Charles swallowed as Arthur’s shirt tightened across his back. His jeans being held up by his braces, left a slight gap where the blue cotton met the worn denim. The atmosphere changing quickly as the scene inside the tiny home left an uneasy feeling in both men’s guts. Cupboards hanging off their hinges, contents scattered about clothes strewn over the floor and tangling round their legs.

“Jus’ can’t see this bein’ the kinda’ way Josiah lives.” Arthur’s gruff voice tinted with concern.

“I agree, I don’t know him, but he doesn’t strike as the...untidy man,” Voice trailing off as he points to a splatter stain, browning in the dry heat.

“Mm.” Grunting in acknowledgement of Charles’s discovery. “Lets go find the son of a bitch.”

 

Why can it never be simple? Arthur inwardly cursed. Always damn running after bastards. He tread quietly as a disturbance in the corn made his head snap. He could hear footsteps treading in the row parallel. Following as silently as possible, both men reached the end of the maize, Arthur nearly smacking Charles’s face with his shotgun.

Charles threw his hands up, quick smile before he noticed something in the dirt in the row across. Arthur stooped to pick up the worn leather holster as Charles headed in the opposite direction, stalking like a cat, body jumping at the sound of crows a crop over. Arthur turned, treading softly, gun ready and low by his hip. 

Pulled back suddenly, Arthur dropped his gun, a gasp on the tip of his tongue stolen by the intense pressure of burning rope around his throat. His body convulsing in a panicked spasm, the oxygen to rapidly cut off and shutting his body down. He frantically tried to grasp his captors hands, nails leaving deep lacerations on the man’s fingers and hands. His vision leaving him like a runaway train yet his eyes were open. Something dark, vicious and angry tore at him and he felt himself let go. 

Letting death take him, he hit the ground hard, death hurts.

A firm shake brought him round, Charles leaning over him.

“You good?” His casual greeting. Arthur heard the desperation in his tone. Blurry eyes watching the shape of his friend, looking around to make sure they were safe. “There’s more of them, we have to move.” Sharp and pragmatic, now is not the time, they need to get to safety.

Charles shoots the other men, Arthur in shock, legs following the younger man, mind still in the cornfield.

After making sure Trelawney was okay, the trio rode back to camp. Charles looking to Arthur as Josiah rambled on, essentially to himself, Arthur’s fingers gripping the reigns tightly as he tried to ignore the tremble of his hands. Nails broken, he could feel the bounty hunter’s skin under what was left of them. 

The women swooned visibly at the sight of the magician, devilishly handsome and an entertainer to boot, he would find himself with an audience for his tenure at camp.

Arthur untacked Gilly quickly and quietly, unsure of his voice and if he still had one. Rope burn stung his neck, he undid a several buttons on his shirt, letting the air get to it. He made his way into the trees around camp, wanting privacy and a moment to collect himself. A mental debrief of the life-threatening ordeal of the day. 

Charles knew the man better then perhaps he knew himself. Knowing that Arthur wanted to be alone. The younger man set to work on a salve, the wound would heal pretty well on it’s own, but there was a need inside him to try and help.

It was twilight when Arthur reappeared, grabbing a congealed bowl of stew, sitting himself ddown at the table, grateful for the peace.

“Hey.” Charles sat opposite him, placing the small, wooden bowl in the centre of the table. Lips in a tight smirk at the raised eyebrows in front of him, just visible below the brim of Arthur’s tattered hat.

“Hey.” Mouth full, he leaned over slightly and sniffed the paste. “That gonna taste better then this piss? Pearson boiled tha’ life out of it.” Lifting a spoon and letting the unattractive slop slosh back into his bowl.

“It’s for your neck, if you’ll take it.” Not forceful, always patient and understanding when it came to the strapping outlaw.

“Ya’ didn’t have to,” He growled politely, “But thanks.” 

Charles scanned the camp before reaching a hand out and placing it over Arthur’s.

“Arthur I heard...I heard about your neck.” Hosea walked over, voice dropping mid-sentence but picking up again. Unsure what he’d seen. “I’ve bought some treatment fo-, Oh, looks like Mr Smith has already seen to it.” The old man sighing as he let himself drop onto the seat. “You are truly an asset to this camp!”

Charles nodded respectfully.

“Did you learn healing from your mother perhaps?”

“Some yes, but most by trial and error, I learnt a lot going it alone and I’ve had a good knowledge of plants since I was as young as Jack.”

“Impressive.” Hosea sat backwards in admiration.

“So I’m ya’ test subject?” Arthur feigned horror

“Oh give over now, we both know Mr Smith is a most competent man, perhaps you can teach our dear boy here.” He looked fondly toward the man he called ‘Son’. Slapping a hand on his thigh and standing with all the elegance of an accordion slowly stretching out a note. “I’m sure you’d pick it up soon enough Arthur, with Charles as your teacher, you seem rather eager to learn.” Placing a hand on his shoulder as he walked by, leaning his weight on him slightly, stiff legs carrying to his bed on the hard ground.

“He’s right, you’re a good learner.” Brown eyes gleaming, looking into the bashful blues across the table.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he replied, “You’re not a bad teacher.”

Arthur felt the lurch of tension down his spine, bubbling in his belly, his mind racing at what else Charles could teach him. He balked as the image ran through his mind, unsure of how it would play out. Terrified of going further, what would it mean for them and would it redefine him. So many questions whirring through his mind.

“Arthur, what are you thinking?” The archer’s calloused hand reaching out again.

“I thought I was gonna die today, but as always Charles, you saved me.” His voice low in case of twitching ears. “and I've been thinkin', realisin' I want...uhm..what you want, I jus’…I ain’t never done nothin’...” He sighed gruffly, feeling uncomfortable, not quite knowing how to articulate his feelings. “I ain’t know Whitman type…”

“I get it. I wouldn’t say that of myself either...it’s just you.” Charles spoke deeply, “I haven’t, I mean my experience, well it’s just been you so I am in the same mind as you. I know what I want to do with you...to you...”

Arthur felt his face burning secretly in the dark. His own desires fighting him, a row between his brain and, well, everything from the neck down.

“If we could jus’ get ta’ somewhere, away from here...” The outlaw felt his mouth betraying him, he didn’t feel ready and yet here he was pushing the situation.

“I might have a way,” Leaning closer over the table, Charles could smell Arthur and resisted the urge to to breathe him in, not wanting to startle the nervous man. “I’ve been watching the roads and there’s a couple of ranchers who take the stock funds from Emerald Ranch to the bank in Rhodes, then they stop for a drink. We could rob them, string them up somewhere, by the time someone finds them, we’ll be long gone. We run it by Dutch...we’ll have to wait most of the day for the money to move...”

“S’good plan.” Arthur’s voice cracking. 

 

The next morning Arthur felt giddy. Washing thoroughly after waking, fresh and clean, he grabbed some breakfast. Charles had been up for a couple of hours already, he stared at him over his small mirror as he shaved his jaw, leaving just a thin layer of stubble. Hair pomaded, he looked dapper, he even smelt pleasant. The ointment for his neck had a minty aroma. Nearly nicking his chin as Charles came into view, hair braided and up, the smoothness of his face visible from where he stood. He’d also shaved.

In a crisp pale shirt with tight, vertical dark lines and new brown breeches held into place by leather braces, he cussed as he looked down at the same old knackered boots. Sitting down at the campfire and lighting up a cigarette, Karen wolf-whistling at him, Charles came to the fire and sat beside Arthur. Without a hint, he passed his lit match and the other man exhaled at the hit of nicotine. He smelt incredible.

Micah was rocking himself on a chair, leering at the girls and giving John and Lenny shifty eyes. Snake eyes looking the dandy men up and down. He elongated his posture, spreading his legs further apart and stretching his arms out,

“Young cowboys all have a great fear,

That old studs once filled with beer

Completely get addle’

They’d throw on the saddle,

And ride on them hard up the rear.

“Mr Bell!” Ms Grimshaw slapped her book down in her lap, “Less of your vulgar language in front of the girls!”

“I don’t get it?” Mary-Beth questioned, head-cocked in confusion.

“They don’t put that kinda’ stuff in your books that’s why.” Karen teased.

“Talkin’ about catamites, sodomites...perverts,” Micah turned to Charles and Arthur, “Men who fuck other-”

“Micah Bell!” Ms Grimshaw stood, the book from her lap poised in her hand, ready to strike him.

“Alright, alright...was just singin’, no need to get your petticoats all twisted up.” He swaggered off, mumbling to himself about Susan’s history as a madam and how she’d seen and heard worse.

She sat back down and flattened her skirts. Karen flicked her eyes to Arthur and Charles who were pointedly occupying themselves in the cigarettes, not sitting as close as usual, squinting at them as if to decipher a meaning from the whole event.

“What was that about?” Lenny asked innocently.

John huffed and looked to him, “I have no idea, perhaps that asshole was tryin’ to tell us somethin’. You ladies can breathe now, seems he’s after us now!” He laughed. The other two men joining in, relief relaxing their shoulders. Thank fuck for that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Racial slurs and reference to injury.

Their plans were ruined as usual. Charles had just tightened the girth on his saddle when he saw Arthur getting interrupted on his exit by Micah, oddly Pearson and then Dutch. They gathered around the table, the stiffness of Arthur’s posture told Charles everything he needed to know. They were going nowhere.

Arthur hadn’t returned from a parley. Charles itched with frustration. How could Arthur respect the man who would leave him to the mercies of a man who hated him. He hoped that Arthur perhaps was lying low, not wanting to bring the O’ Driscolls to camp. Pacing, Charles had found himself accosting Kieran on the third day, “Fucking O’ Driscolls.” He spat. 

“What’s eatin’ that fella?” Uncle asked the group who all looked dispondent. Duffy had been sat with the girls, who all looked up from their conversations. Sadie got up and followed him to the lake front. 

“It’s gettin’ to ya’ huh?” She kicked the gravel around her feet.

“something doesn’t feel right. He would of come back by now.”

“He’s strong. I ain’t jus’ sayin’ that.” She placed a hand on Charles’s arm. He looked at it as he’d never seen fingers before. “Sorry, you know that already.”

He knew his anxiety was showing, well it wasn’t, not unless you knew him enough to spot the micro-expressions.

“Sadie, do you trust Dutch?” He turned his dark eyes on her, piercing and demanding.

“I..uh, I know he wouldn’t sell no one out, but he turns his back too quickly. That Micah don’t help the situation none either.”

“I agree. I’m riding out tonight after dark.”

He might be okay though, Dutch didn’t say anthin’, he hasn’t said anythin’ at all actually. Maybe he sent him on a mission we don’t know about it?”

“I just know.” His voice pitching slightly.

Sadie leant to look up into his face, her features concerned and kind. “You care for him don’t you, hey it’s alright!” She said quickly when Charles’s shot her a look, “I mean I don’t understand how that all works, I guess you’re stuck in a group of men, on the road with only men...things get tense and y’all have needs...I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this but I get it. ‘Though it seems like it’s more then just, y’know sex, for you?”

Charles had never had this conversation with anyone before. It was hard enough stumbling through awkward metaphors with Arthur.

“It’s not how you think...”

“I get it, I mean I don’t, but I get men! Was married to one for quite some time, y’all need to get it out your systems sometimes, plus there ain’t much in the way of available women about.”  
Charles frowned, she didn’t understand at all. “I like...” He cleared his thoat, “We haven’t ha-”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.

“Ooohhh. Does he feel the same way?”

Brow still furrowed, Charles’s shuffled on the spot, eager to get away from Sadie and the whole conversation. “I don’t know, Arthur is not a man to me rushed.”

“Arthur.” 

“Yeah I just said-

“It’s Arthur!” Sadie shook him and pointed to the camp entrance. Mary-Beth, Karen, Ms Grimshaw and Dutch were crouching over a red lump on the ground, Reverend Swanson hurrying over with his narcotics.

Dutch and Swanson trying to drag the broken mess that was Arthur. Hair lank and sweat-slicked. He was filthy, bloodstains on his union suit, a nasty hole in his left shoulder. Charles hurried over to help move him, as he got closer he smelt the fear off him, pungent and overpowering the smell of urine and blood. 

“What happened?” Dutch questioned him, not a shred of guilt on him. Charles grit his teeth. He was damp and his skin was clammy, the clothing on him rank with body odour. The feverish sweat on him screamed infection. The fibres around the wound were charred and melted into the torn flesh, at least he’d cauterised the wound. He’d learnt from last time. Charles tried not to think about the fact that he would of died on his horse of sepsis if he hadn’t prioritised his wound in that moment.

They dropped him onto the cot mattress, Swanson ripping apart the already ruined union suit, his torso more purple than his usual soft peach. The bruises running further down then what was showing. Swanson made to undo the buttons before turning to the small crowd. “Ladies, I think we need to give Arthur some space.” The nodded and rushed off, presumably to fill the others in.

“I’ll speak to Hosea, see what we’ve got between us, maybe make a tonic or something.” Charles pressed his fingers on the inside of Arthur’s wrist, his pulse was weak, it was a miracle he made it alive. The bruising around his neck was yellowing, how many times must Arthur Morgan suffer for the men who won’t bring him home. Swanson cut Arthur’s arm out of his sleeve, he was more unconscious then awake and despite his health he was still a bull of a man. Tightening a tourniquet around his arm, the weak veins popping up, offering themselves for relief. 

Swanson focused on giving Arthur the much needed morphine, Charles slipped his hand around Arthur’s and squeezed reassuringly. The reverend sat the empty needle back into his ‘Bible’ before returning to the buttons he had started to undo. Charles walked away, this wasn’t how he wanted to see Arthur.

 

The others were gathered around the campfire. Dutch was riding off the return of his prodigal son, using the situation to rile up the others.

“We are real men of the west! Not that treacherous Colm O’Driscoll. Call yourselves damn outlaws. They, were going to sell us out to the law!” The men roared, persuading him on. “But we got away...they took our son, our brother, Arthur. Colm O’Driscoll, that bastard’s gonna pay for what he’s done to this family.” His voice deepening at the end off his statement. Dutch knew Colm was right, he was a charismatic leader.

“And mine.” Sadie growled.

“That is why young Lady, you are our family. Let us unite brothers and sisters. We trust no one but each other.”

They cheered and exulted as Dutch nodded. Stood as they all sat around him, like a messiah and his disciples. Charles stood shy of the group, he already knew not to trust anyone, Dutch was just another person to take off his list of exceptions. He considered Sadie, who cheered along with the others, but he knew that was more for the prospect of revenge for Jake Adler.

Javier was too loyal perhaps if he’d been there, he’d of also left Arthur for dead. John was potentially the only one who would of gone back for him, they fought like brothers and loved like brothers too.

The reverend wiped his forehead on his arm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, spiky grey and ginger hair on end. He looked tired. Ms Grimshaw got up and headed in the direction he’d come from, gently touching Swanson’s shoulder as she passed. All the severity, calmness and worry of a mother, Charles guessed that in some ways she was like a mother to Arthur and John.

“Orville, is he going to make it?” Hosea pulled the tired man from his hands.

“I’m no doctor, he’s fighting a fever, he might not make it through the night.”

Mary-Beth clasped her skinny fingers to her mouth. Eyes watering, a squeak, followed by steady tears. Tilly rubbed her back tentatively. Even Karen had wiped the permanent smirk off her face.

“Shit.” John said.

Micah looked between all the worried faces, “Fuck this, if we sat cryin’ everytime cowpoke took a hit, this camp would flood, we could jus’ sail away from those Pinkerton assholes.”

“Do you ever shut your mouth?” Lenny taking the bait, the line twitching fervently.

“I dunno kid, do you ever shut yours? All I hear about is how your Daddy this, your Daddy that. Does your ass ever get jealous of the shit that comes out’cha mouth?”

Lenny threw his bottle in the dirt, beer sloshing up over the top, standing upright with clenched fists. Charles shifted slightly, ready to drop Micah if needed. Micah leered up at the young man, a wicked grin revealing rotten and broken teeth, everything about him was putrid.

“Go on boy, your Daddy show you how to beat on someone too?!” He got up, drunk body wobbling, ego carrying him through the motions. “Ooh that struck a nerve!” He cackled, “Was it you, get you with that belt did he, made you get on your knees!”

John stood to hold Lenny still, muttering, “Ain’t right, the rats pickled, Dutch wouldn’t like it.”

“Or was it your mommy, did you have to watch, “Mommy! Mommy!””

Lenny pushed John to the side, he stumbled and landed on his ass. Micah stepped backwards laughing, a sneer curling his lips, taunting Lenny. Summers threw a punch into the redneck’s face, an audible crunch as the cartilage in his nose broke. 

“Fuckin’ Nigga!” Micah screamed, pulling his knife out. John scrambled to get up, not finding the balance to pull himself up, cursing the beers he’d drunk. Charles pulled his gun out and pointed it to the back of Micah’s greasy blond head.

He clicked the hammer, arm unwavering, muscles taut. 

“Why it’s my favourite redskin!” He gently raised his hands, knife still gripped in his right, “Where’s Mr Escuella, let’s make a union!”

“Put the knife down.”

“Nah c’mon Mr Smith lets-”

“Put it down or I’ll take the shot. Drop the knife or you die right here.” His voice cool and collected. Silently wishing the rat to lurch for him, he knew he was responsible for pushing the meet with Colm. Pearson might of mentioned it but he was too thick to know any better, but for all Micah was an inbred piece of shit, he knew bad men and their strategies.

“Alright,” The clatter of steel on hard grown, the glint of the metal reflecting in the firelight. “I was jus’ playin’. You guys need to get a sack. Even cowpoke understands how bein’ an outlaw works. Y’all got too many morals to be part of a gang.”

He sauntered off just as John scrambled up and clumsily pulled his gun out. Lenny and Charles turned their heads, faces wearing the same expression.

“Thanks Mr Marston, you were a great help.” Lenny muttered sarcastically, straightening his waistcoat.

“S’alright.” John replied in his husky voice.

“You serious?” Lenny laughed, “You need to sleep that off. Thanks Charles, I thought he was going to have me then, I do not trust that man at all.”

“Mm, we’re all bad men, but he’s something else. Colm should of taken him instead, would’a done us a favour.” The two men nodded. Charles looked back to Arthur’s wagon, he couldn’t see him behind Susan, who seemed to be caressing his face, running her hand through his hair. Fuck Micah Bell.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more racial slurs. Sorry guys... -.-

Hosea had bitter tonic and something called vodka, he’d been saving it for a special occasion, saying he would probably never get another bottle in his lifetime. He took a swig before handing it over. “This should help sterilise any wounds. Don’t be sparing Charles.” 

He nodded.

As he approached Arthur, he could hear Grimshaw humming a pleasant tune quietly. Stopping as she heard him approach. Either her or Swanson had cut away his union suit, blanketed up to the waist, a woollen throw over his legs. His bare torso being washed carefully by Susan. She sat by two buckets, one for the blood and one with the fresh water. The dirt and ichor removed leaving the swollen and angry bruising. Some redder and other’s darker. They’d beaten him relentlessly.

Charles wondered what he’d thought when they’d stop, did he think Dutch would come, did the older man hope that he would come? Charles cleared his throat, sitting on a box next to Susan. She was wiping at the matted blood in his chest hair, looking at him through the straggles of grey hair that had escaped her bun. He placed a hand on her back for a second before pulling the cork from the vodka bottle, taking a breath and moving his hand to Arthur’s shoulder.

He pressed firmly to brace him before pouring the liquid into the hole in his muscle. Arthur had been still, eyes closed and breathing laboured. He jerked as the vodka burned the exposed flesh. Sweat beading on his forehead, soon wiped away by the woman at his bedside. Charles got a square of bandage and doused it and began to press into the wound, the wincing more bodily this time, he grimaced as he wiped the inside of the wound, removing the dead tissue and dirt that hadn’t rinsed off. It looked angry and raw, dots of blood returning once the pressure had been alleviated.

Another vodka rinse, no response from that, his chest rising steadily. Arthur had passed out. Charles dabbed the ointment he’d made into the gunshot, quickly putting the medicine into his wound before he regained consciousness. They both finished tending to him and pulled the blankets up to his neck. Susan turned to him, looking slightly more relaxed. “I’ll watch him from here, you go on now.”

“You sure? Can I bring you anything?” He’d interacted with her more now then he had the whole time he’d been part of the gang.

“No I’ll be fine Mr Smith.” Her hand resting on Arthur’s.

Charles took one last look at him, his colour was less languid, breathing still laboured and sweat glistening on his neck and chest. He was fighting the sepsis at least.

 

Charles woke to his leg being prodded, he opened his bleary eyes and saw Jack playing with his toy horse, making it it gallop up and down his shins. Jack glanced up and jumped away when he saw he was awake.

“Why are you sleeping out here?” The child’s voice squeaky and full of questions. They were in the trees at the edge of the camp. Slumping down to play his harmonica, a bid to distract himself, fighting the sleep so he could be there if he was needed. Must of fallen asleep, he thought.

“Was an accident.” Leaning against the trunk he’d slept against, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing. It can’t of been a lot of sleep. “C’mon, lets get something to eat.”

“I’ve had mine.” Jack looked up innocently. “Thanks anyway.”

The archer and the wolf’s son, walking side-by-side, Abigail followed them with her eyes. Charles aware that despite the loyalty he’d shown and the duration of time he’d been there, there was still an underlying assumption that he was dangerous. Which he was, but not to a child, only to those who brought it on.

Ms Grimshaw was by the cook fire, pouring coffee into Arthur’s tin mug. His head instantly turning, seeking the injured man. Susan had propped him slightly upright, he was still asleep but unbruised flesh had returned to his usual pinky-peach, an improvement on the sour-milk he was sporting last night. Charles quietly tread toward him, stopping to make sure he was asleep, the man didn’t stir so he gently sat down on the box he’d been on only a few hours ago.

Ms Grimshaw sat down in her chair next to him, passing his tin cup.

“He was awake, but must’ve gone back to sleep. You might as well drink this, could be cold by the time he wakes up again.”

“Thanks, you should get some rest.”

“I think you’re right Mr Smith.”

Then they were alone. Charles sipped the bitter coffee, looking on his friend, watching his toes and fingers twitch ever-so-slightly. He must be coming round slowly. Swanson had said he should be fine if he wakes. Willing his eyes to open, the younger man hadn’t realised he was leaning forward on his box.

“You wanna get your eyes looked at if your strugglin’” Sean quipped as he walked upto them. “How’s the big fella doin’? Gotta take some hell of a bastard to fuck a man up like that.” The Irishman peering over Arthur’s cot.

“Or a group.” Charles’s vision was just fine, he could see the torture he’d been put through. He’d seen it so many times before. Treated like a piece of meat, an animal, something that needed to be eradicated. He’d seen it on the faces of his people. Seen it on the bodies hanging from the trees. Strange fruit, they’d say.

“Can’t wait to get my fuckin’ hands on those O’Driscoll scum,” The fiery attitude from last night still burning.

“We’ll kill them all.” A still hatred, Charles didn’t take pleasure in killing men, but he he did not mind killing men who took pleasure in the kill.

“That we certainly fuckin’ will” Sean near shouting his reply before stomping away, yelling about his “fucking neighbours from Donegal!”

 

“So I made it back to camp then?” A weak voice straining itself from Arthur. Charles out the tin cup on Arthur’s table before helping him sit up some more, pushing the makeshift pillows that everyone had helped to provide up into a slope, then helping him lean back.

The blanket slipping enough to reveal the hole in his shoulder.

“Christ.” Arthur noticing properly for the first time. It was big, he was lucky it hadn’t been further down, the blast would have been big enough to blow his heart up inside his chest.

“How do you feel?” Deep and sincere, as always, a comfort for the returned man. He was home.

“Like crap. Is Dutch here?”

“Yeah, you probably don’t remember, but he helped you onto your bed.”

“Was he okay?” Arthur’s eyes red, blood vessels burst and swollen from crying. Charles looked away, unable to look at him like this.

“Charles? Is Dutch okay?” Trying to push himself up, he grimaced and clutched his shoulder. The archer easing him back down carefully.

“Yeah, he came back fine. We didn’t know you’d been taken...What...what did they do to you?”

“Oh nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about,” Arthur’s typical defensive humour, a testing smile towards his friend, mouth dropping at the deadpan look he got in return. “They set us up, they were gonna use me to bring you all to their place and then hand ya’s to the law.”

“You said that last night right after you fell of your horse, what happened there?”

“They hung me up like a pig, in some kinda cellar. I tried to escape before an’ they shot me,” Looking again to the healing mess, “Each of them sad little pricks gave me a visit.” Charles watched as Arthur traced his bruises with his fingers. “I got away, Gilly took me home. Good girl.”

“I’ve taken care of her, before you ask. Can you eat?”

“Can Sean get anymore annoyin’?”

“Huh,” Charles huffed, “I’ll grab you something.”

 

Arthur ate a little, Charles filling him in on the fight last night, looking back to him to see him snoring softly.

He left him to it, sitting down on his bedroll and decided to get some sleep too. If anything to move time forward so he could be with him without being obvious. Could only come up with so many excuses to sit by a sleeping man all day who was out of the worst of it.

Feeling all the stress and worry returning to the ground, Charles closed his eyes. 

 

Arthur rode beside him, glowing and handsome. Perfect, clean and so very well. The image jumping to them alone in a copse of blossoming fruit trees. Gilly and Taima grazing happily in the background. A honey coloured glow setting over everything. They were led side-side, passionately kissing, wet tongues and wet lips. Charles tracing light kisses along the exposed skin around Arthur’s neck gently pulling the buttons open, more kisses on soft flesh, lingering on scars and other perfect imperfections.

The hair on Arthur’s belly tickling his nose, Charles pulling himself back up to snog him, Arthur turning beneath him onto his belly. The archer pulling the rest of the outlaw’s shirt out from the back of his jeans, fingers softly tracing along his back. He felt his own breath, heavy on the inhale, eager and excited. Slowly pulling his braces down while Arthur pushed a hand under himself and undid his jeans buttons.

Charles pulled them down over his ass, pulling himself out of his own pants, slicking himself with spit he leant forward over Arthur, positioning himself th-

“Oi!” Bill Williamson, kicking his leg as he lay face down on his bedroll, “Some of us have work to do, don’t think you can just shoot your little arrows and then lay down the rest of the day.” The bearded asshole in the checked shirt was drunk, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut the fuck up, gordo de mierda.” Javier spat.

Bill turned his attention from Charles to the Mexican, “The fuck did you just say to me?! I’ve passed bigger shits then you, you wanna go, we’ll go!”

“No lucho con cobardes, tengo más respeto que” Javier murmured under his breath, “Lets go coño gordo.”

The arguing trailed off as Bill followed Javier. Charles turned his head to watch for a moment, Escuella had been holding back for so long, Bill spewing his racist comments over him, Charles and Lenny. He left Tilly alone, but on account of her being female. As if he would have a chance, Charles thought to himself.

Fucking asshole. He closed his eyes and tried to take himself back. Hosea was shouting at Bill, who started shouting back. Karen, who was in a foul mood with Sean, joined in by screaming at them all.

“Fuck sake.” Charles resigned to getting up. He glanced down and noticed his excitement had resonated physically. He adjusted himself, pulling his cock upwards underneath his trousers and tugging his spotted blue tunic down to cover.

It’d been a while since that had happened, years even, Charles remembered the bothersome mornings as a young man on the road alone. 

“Have to fix that later,” He mumbled to himself. Hoping that he would be left alone long enough to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gordo de mierda - fat fuck  
> No lucho con cobardes, tengo más respeto que eso - I don't fight with cowards, I have more respect than that  
> coño gordo - fat cunt
> 
> I'm slightly diverging from small canon details, hope no one minds. Oh and thanks for the lovely comments guys


	19. Chapter 19

When Charles left camp late that morning, Arthur had been asleep, propped up and snoring. He decided to get out and do some hunting and clear his head. Further driven by the desire to make sure his friend had good, fresh meat to sustain him when he woke. It would also be a good chance to look for medicinal herbs and berries.

Crouched low in the long grass of the open plains, Charles followed the deer. He’d found a herd of ox, turned out by a nearby farm, but he knew Taima wouldn’t be able to carry such a beast. Nocking an arrow he pulled back the string and shot effortlessly and expertly at the doe, the animal dying with a slight yelp before dropping dead.

“Hm.” He chuffed proudly. A sharp whistle called his appaloosa to his side, her soft black lips nibbling his ear, warm breath caressing his head as it rippled under his hair and tickling his scalp. He nuzzled into her neck, the comfort of her presence always reassuring. She was a living relic of his people, a survivor and a warrior. She reminded him of his mother.

He gave thanks for the hunt and slung the carcass onto Taima’s back clicking her into a slow trot back home, once they got to the familiar path, Charles pulled out his harmonica and dropped the reigns to play as the wandered back.

A course greeting from Karen, halfcut and waving her rifle around, reminded Charles that he hadn’t taken guard in a couple of days. 

Walking through camp he saw Arthur’s bed empty, boxes moved and the ‘pillows’ presumably returned to their owners. Charles headed to Pearson’s table and laid the deer out before him.

“Another fruitful hunt Mr Smith!” The veteran slapped two hands on his greasy apron and licked his lips. “I’ll have this cooked up soon for ya’”

“Sure.”

“Charles!” Lenny shouted him over to where the others had assumed their usual positions round the campfire. There was a happiness in all their faces, Bill, Micah and Dutch were otherwise engaged, leaving no tension between the rest of the group.

The girls were giggling and even Abigail was sat enjoying a beer, “I haven’t seen nothin’ like that for five years!”

“Could do with seeing more!” Karen squawked, “All I get to see now and then is Sean’s scrawny ass and occasionally Uncle’s if he bends down low enough!”

“Or is he forgets the buttons on the back of his union suit!” Tilly offered.

Mary-Beth didn’t look so enthusiastic, “Well I think it was indecent to stare, he’s had a rough time an-”

“For Christ’ sake girl, it was just an ass!” Karen howled, clutching at her stomach with laughter.

John, Javier and Lenny watched with mild interest. Hosea shook his head and shifted so Charles could sit beside him.  
“There was a time, back when it was the old guard, when we didn’t have to worry about the sensitivities of women.” Hosea grinned at them. “Excusing Ms Grimshaw of course.” He nodded in her direction, she returned the expression curtly. “

“Sensitivities, beside Mary-Beth, the rest of us are working girls, there ain’t nothin’ we haven’t seen and probably seen more then you!” Karen argued.

“Retired!” Ms Grimshaw added, for once joining in with the fun.

“Hey what about Miss O’Shea?” Tilly questioned, a smirk teasing the corner of her mouth, aware of the bad atmosphere between the blonde and the ginger.

“She’s just the same, a different kinda sort, but a sort nonetheless.” Punctuating her comment with a sharp nod.

“Must’ve been pretty quiet just you boys?” Lenny’s turn for questions. 

Javier snorted, “Pretty quiet? It must have been the most peaceful time.” He said, eyes shut, as if in a pleasant dream.

“Hey!” Karen teased.

Hosea lifted his hat and ran a hand through the curly white hair underneath before putting it back. “Time was when we had Arthur, he was barely a man, still a boy but not a child at least. We were out Ohio way, Me and Bessie, Susan and Dutch and our boy. Me and Arthur had stopped at a local saloon. We were hoping to do business there, there was a stolen whiskey dealer and he needed someone to push it. Being one step ahead I decided to sell it on as my own product and I’d taken the boy along to learn a thing or two about conning.

Turns out, the man I was doing business with was an Aldous Filson enthusiast, the two of us sidetracking and comparing notes on our favourite novels. Poor Arthur got bored quickly and went to look around outside. At some point he bumped into the barmen’s daughter, who'd been bathing in the courtyard behind the old building. She was about the same age as him, pretty little thing. Anyway, we hear a scream as the girl is surprised by our boy who’d been moseying around.”

Hosea looked around, everyone still engrossed in his tale.

“A quick talk, father to father, he was just ablockheaded fool and hadn’t seen any harm in his actions. On the road back, he said nothing. Over dinner, he said nothing. He went to bed early that night, we were all in our tents when we heard the peculiar sound of a cot squeaking. Thinking nothing of it until Susan shouted at me and Bessie "we're trying to sleep here for Christ sake!” Hosea mimicked Ms Grimshaw. Bessie got out to shout back at her when she gasped at Arthur-”

Susan who had already started giggling, “You keep pulling that thing and it’ll come off!” She squealed.

The others laughed and Mary-Beth blushed.

“So in reply to your comment Karen, we’ve seen it all on this camp, fiddling, fucking and all manner of bodily functions” Susan snorted   
Charles smirked, unable to picture a young Arthur, frantically tugging himself at the mere glimpse of another body. 

Hosea lit a cigarette and spoke around it, “Took us a few years till we got him to quit it.” Taking the smoke between his fingers and exhaling, a slight cough as he grinned at the memory.

“Mr Matthews, when you and Bessie went travelling you missed the fun and games of him sneaking women into camp! I was marching them it by their ears every sunrise!” Ms Grimshaw fizzed.

“Hey, you’re also forgetting that at one point me and Susan were the only women on the camp at one point!” Abigail piped up, “I’ve seen it all too!” She smiled, looking to the girls for approval.

“Don’t we know it.” Karen muttered into her beer.

Sadie walked past Charles, brushing a hand over his arm as she went. Just catching the tail end of the giggling before it had stopped suddenly.

“What ch’all laughin’ at?” She looked between them.

“Who’s seen Arthur naked.” Tilly snorted.

Sadie looked quizzically at them.

“The girls were spying on him while he got dressed earlier.” Javier sighed, not interested in the direction the conversation had taken.

Hosea and Grimshaw had continued to reminisce of times gone by, “Now when we got John, it started all over again!” He chuckled.

Charles had decided to look for Arthur, he didn’t seem to be in camp but he couldn’t have gone far.  
He strolled down the lake-shore to where the group normally had their washes. Sure enough Arthur was there, clean and dressed, pulling his braces over his shoulders before placing his hat on his washed hair.

“Howdy” He called, rolling his sleeves up to how he liked them. His face was less swollen, but blotchy with bruises.

“Hey.” Charles said in his usual tone, deep and casual. “You take off the bandages?”

“Mm-mm, thought I’d leave it to Susan, wouldn’t want her gettin’ cross at me.”

“How are you feeling?” He fell into stride as Arthur walked slowly back to camp.

“M’okay, lucky to be alive so I’m told. Girls seemed pleased to see me.”

“Yeah I heard, let me change your bandages, I want to put more of that paste on and make sure it’s clean enough...if that’s alright?”

“Always the gentleman Mr Smith, sure thing. You’d think a bunch’a whores ain’t never seen a man before. If it weren’t for ‘em all sat there watchin’ I’da’ jus’ come down here bollocks an’ all.” He chuckled, his voice still husky from where he’d been severely dehydrated.

“Wouldn’t that of been a picture.” Charles murmured, trying and failing to remove the naked and pale Arthur, skipping down to the water front from his mind.

 

The group had all but dispersed except for Sadie, John, Javier and Abigail. The tight foursome. The two women commenting on the arrogance of Karen and John and Javier trading tales of their early manhood.

Charles followed Arthur to his cot, the paste in a bowl still beside his bed amongst his other personal items.

“Shirt.” Charles’s eyes focusing on the buttons around Arthur’s neck.

Arthur obeying dutifully, fingering the buttons undone, looking up at Charles. How he’d missed him. Wondering if Dutch had come for him, what would of happened to Charles. Would he of been smart and sensed the trap, running with Jack and the women to safety, a better life. Or would he of died in the inevitable gunfight? Arthur bloody and weak, caressed shamelessly in Charles’s arms.

Charles gently pulled back the shirt to look at the wound, his fingers softly touching the skin around it. Stood over Arthur, his hair that wasn’t up, falling in a sheer, black curtain. Captivated by the silent beauty that was the younger man, Arthur sat looking up at him, entranced. Charles stood between his knees, tracing fingers turned to a stroking hand, smoothing up his neck and round to the bottom of his hairline. 

A harsh cough broke them out of their bubble as Abigail passed with a basket of laundry, leaving the conversation at the fire, eyes forward as though they were invisible.

“Uh, the paste,” Arthur’s voice breaking slightly.

“Mm.” A hunger in Charles’s eyes made the outlaws cheeks flush.

The bandage was peeled back despite the flinching. It didn’t look great, but it didn’t look worrying either, he was going to have one hell of a scar Charles mused to himself.

“What’s the verdict Doc’, ‘ma gonna live?”

“It would seem so.”

Wound thoroughly cleaned and paste applied, Charles finished the task with fresh bandages. 

“Seein’ as I’m on the mend...how ‘bouts we start thinkin’ bout that job with them Ranch guys...maybe, catchin’ a moment to ourselves again?” Arthur stood as he finished his sentence. If he were a braver man he would kiss him, or foolish, but then all bravery is successful foolishness.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I watched Endgame last night and it was too long to get the time to write. What with that, the end of RDR2 and the latest episode of Shadowhunters, I am a mess :(

Charles stared into Arthur’s blue eyes, still in his bedspace. “Come hunt.”

“But we don’t need to?”

“That’s true. Come hunt.”

Arthur swallowed, Charles’s breathing was heavy and fast, obvious as it moved his entire being.

“Sure.”

Arthur felt his legs betraying him as he tried to walk casually to his hitch post. It felt as though his whole body was trying to tell everyone as it passed by. They tacked up silently and turned their horses without a word or a last glance. Abigail raising an eyebrow as she watched them, catching Sadie from across the camp and pulling a face.

 

They’d ridden not too shy of the camp, the area thick with trees and bushes, the grass long and wild. Nature’s own private pocket. Charles dismounted and allowed Taima to freely graze. Arthur felt as though he was stuck to his saddle, he felt a mixture of both excited and nervous. Driven by desire, he wanted to be with Charles in every physical sense of the word and yet, despite being no virgin by society’s ideas...he felt like a bride on her wedding night.

He finally hopped off and let Gilly follow her friend, joining Charles on the ground. They sat in silence, but this silence felt moderately uncomfortable.

“Finally get this time, an’ we don’t know what to do with oursel’s.” Arthur joked awkwardly, picking at the tops of his boots.

“Arthur.”

He could feel his eyes on him, Charles’s hunger burning his skin, undressing him. His eyes fucking him wherever he went.

“Charles?” Arthur croaked.

Charles moved forward slowly and gently kissed him, Arthur propped on his elbows as the younger man leant over him, their bodies pressing together.

Arthur gasped, they’d danced together closely, but not so tightly as they were now. Moving his arms to lay back into the grass, Charles sat so his knees were either side of the outlaw. Laying on him as the kisses deepened to something more passionate. Both men breathing wantonly and panting. Charles moved a hand from Arthur’s cheek and ran it over the other man’s chest. Strong hands, the outlaw thought to himself.

Arthur was in his own head, everything was all so new because this was another man, but not any man. It was Charles, who he admired, respected and most of the time; wished he could be him; to be the epitome of elegance and grace, a man of strong morals and culture, all the kindness and patience that Arthur didn’t know he wanted but Charles knew he needed.

Charles’s hands explored at a quicker rate, squeezing Arthur’s thighs and revelling in the grunt he got in response. He kissed along his jaw and bit tenderly at his neck. He felt about ready to tear him apart like a great bear, hungry after a long winters sleep.

Charles pulled Arthur’s shirt, untucking it from his jeans, quickly working the buttons to reveal pale skin with a light dusting of freckles, mostly hidden under the curly, auburn hair that covered most of his chest and belly. Arthur’s hands danced around Charles’s waist, unsure of himself and self-conscious. No woman ever wanted him so why now? Why Charles?

Arthur’s eye’s fluttering shut as the younger man pressed chaste kisses from his chest down to his navel, sucking tentatively at the sensitive skin above the waist of his jeans. 

“If it gets too much-” Charles started.

“Nuh, it’s...”Arthur moaned under his breath, “S’good...jus’”

“I know,” Charles undid the first button of his friend’s jeans, watching his facial expression, Arthur seemed far more nervous then he was and he didn’t want to push too far.

Another button.

Then the last.

He could see Arthur’s cock, hard and wet underneath his union suit. They’d seen each other naked many times, as a group of travelling men tend to, but not like this. Hard with arousal and because of him, because Arthur was aroused by him, his own cock twitched eagerly.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Arthur was propped on his arms again, a worried look on his flushed face.

“No, just looking.” Charles smirked, flashing his deep, brown eyes at him, pupils blown. He softly placed a hand over the older man’s erection. It seemed so different then touching himself, this entire situation alien and yet so familiar at the same time. As though he’d been doing this for years. He kept his gaze on Arthur as he fingered open the button on the crotch of the union suit, pulling his eyes away as he shuffled down slightly and lowered his head.

Arthur’s heart was racing, he felt Charles pull the material open and the tickle of his long, black hair. His breath ghosting him before…

“Arthur! Charles!” A voice sounded somewhere past the treeline. The two men jumping apart and frantically pulling at their clothes, Charles quickly tucking his shirt in, trying to adjust himself to hide his erect dick tenting his pants. Arthur had more to fix and had managed to sort most of his shirt out before Sadie came into view. The horses had wandered and given them away.

“Hey you need to come quickly, there’s been a...” She stopped and looked between them. Arthur with his once pomaded hair flopping over his face, braces relaxed by his side and his shirt half-tucked and loose around his neck. Eyes flicking down to the top button of his jeans, left undone. Charles less disarrayed, his hair spilling out of his bun on one side where Arthur had grasped at it hungrily, panting heavily and lips swollen and wet.

“What is- uh, no, there ain’t time! Jack’s missin’!”  
The two flushed men sobering almost instantly, the high of desire sinking fast at the news. Grabbing the horses they raced back to camp. Abigail was having Dutch’s life for not protecting him enough. The atmosphere of the camp was contagious, Arthur felt a rage surge through him, who the fuck takes a child. Charles was focused, he found at times like this it was necessary to be an anchor when needed. He could see it in Arthur, the fire, the loss of his own son and fierce love for Jack.

They were going to ride to the Braithwaite Manor, apparently he was there. All the boys saddled up, nobody mentioned that Sean wasn't there. No racist comments, no drunken excuses and none of the silly banter from the younger ones. Dutch’s boys all together.

Abigail was beside her self, being held by the women as she clutched to their skirts, screaming hysterically. Poor John looked lost, unable to process the kidnapping of his child, a child he’d so deliberately pushed away. Not wanting to take responsibility for his actions, a fear of commitment, a fear of family. He always knew Jack was his, but now it had hit him that he’d let him down, if he died or they couldn’t get him back then he truly will of failed him as a Father.

Arthur gave him a push as they all rode out of the camp, “Get it together Marston!” He growled at him, emotion resonating from him. John looked to him mournfully and Arthur relented a little, “You gonna be okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Dutch boomed, “Just keep your head now John. Alright boys, lets ride!”

They all set to a gallop, flying across Lemoyne countryside, passing a few stunned travellers as they pushed on hard.

All of them spurred on with the same intentions. Faces of steel and fire in their bellies. This was how a gang should feel, Charles thought for a moment, if it weren’t for Jack. He’s seen too many children taken in his life to be filled with such passion as the others, but no innocent deserves to be used as a pawn in the wars of men. Especially not one so futile and self-serving. Deep down he felt this was Dutch’s fault, not his intention, but even now he was playing on it.

The confrontation went as they always did, bloody and violent. Luckily no casualties on their side at least. The Braithwaites were an old plantation family, making money off the genocide and enslavement of his father’s people and many others. Their deaths didn’t undo the slaughter and torture of millions, but it felt good to enact justice, even if it was fast. Too merciful for Charles’s liking.

They tore through the house, a large and ornate building full of treasures in each room, neither Arthur nor Charles had been somewhere so palatial before. The décor and furnishings reminded Arthur briefly of the Cornwall train, all of this finery and for what? Just to sit on or look at once in a while. Having too many rooms to even use and they thought he was dumb. He kicked door after door calling for the little boy.

John had tuned in to the situation more and called out for him too, a desperation seeped into his voice. “Jack?! Son?!” All of them getting more and more riled up, but to no avail. He wasn’t here.

They came upon a room barricaded by Catherine Braithwaite, who was a stubborn women, she’d inflicted evil on people her whole life and took no shame in it. She saw nothing wrong in selling little Jack, everything she had ever done had revolved around buying and selling people and she wasn’t about to feel remorse for it now, even in her last moments.

Once they broke her they torched the place. They all turned back as they walked away from the burning house, watching the screaming woman run to the flames, engulfing her as she crawled in. As if hell had welcomed her home with open arms.

Charles nodded and they solemnly rode back. It was nearing dawn and the sun was peeking over the horizon, they all stunk of charred wood and smoke. Defeated but not done, Jack was still out there and he needed rescuing. They didn’t know the man Catherine had business with, Angelo Bronte and they had no idea what would be happening to him. Charles looked over to Arthur who was watching John. Arthur steering Gilly to fall in with Old Boy and placing a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

John looked dreadful, depressed and full of despair, he knew he’d have to come home to Abigail. Without Jack. She rushed to them as they hitched up. All in silence as they knew what was coming. She tried to ignore their faces as she desperately ran to John.

“Wh-Wh Where’s my boy?” She pleaded, grabbing the lapels of his jacket as he thudded down off his horse, her lip started to tremble, tears streaming down her face. She slapped him and shook him by his jacket again, “Where’s my boy John Marston!” She screamed, “My son! My only boy! Where is he?!”

He stared at her, face forlorn and mouth stuck for the words to comfort her.

“Answer me!” Spitting as she howled, “Goddamnit John please!” She dropped to her knees and cried at his feet.

Arthur stepped toward them and crouched to her level, voice soft and understanding “Abigail, listen to me- jus' listen alright? He’s alive. Jackie's alive but we need to find him. We’re going to find the man, Angelo Bronte, he’s got him and we're gonna take him back. Whatever it takes, ain’t that right Dutch?” More of a demand then a question.

“Abigail, John, you have my word. We will bring that boy home.”

Still crying Abigail accepted that, accepted that Jack was alive and let herself be lead to her tent by the other women to tend to her. The men were tired, it had been a long night and they were exhausted. Pearson who’d stayed behind had made food ready for their return, silently ladling them all a bowl as they sat and ate without a word.

“Well isn’t this a pity party.” A familiar and cold tone broke the emptiness sending a shudder through Arthur’s body.

Boss I-” Lenny started, pointing his rifle at the back of Agent Milton and his crones.

“It’s okay boy.” Dutch hushed him. “And to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“We haven’t come here to fight Mr Van Der Linde. We’ve come here to parley.” He sneered. The last word had Charles cast a glance to Arthur, who swallowed uncertainly. 

“Well then, if you leave your men here in Mr Summer’s capable hands and step this way-”

“It’s not you we’d like to speak to Dutch.” The Pinkerton agent’s face smug and threatening.


	21. Chapter 21

He had some balls. Arthur thought to himself, nothing was stopping them from killing them on the spot, in fact they should of. He tuned in and out of the conversation, keeping an eye out for a possible ambush.

“...We didn’t kill all of those savages...”

Arthur looked to Charles. Stoic as usual, only he could see his lip curled slightly, slowly memorising all of Charles’s looks and quirks. This was not what they needed right now and he knew that John knew it too, tensed beside him with his thumb over the hammer of his revolver. It was Ms Gimshaw who scared them off, forever their mother, a wild protectiveness that shone from her in moments like this. Jack had been taken and Arthur hadn’t even had time to grieve for Sean, feeling the lack of his presence like going up the grizzlies without a coat.

When the agents left, Ms Grimshaw scrambled the girls and the old men into action, before Dutch even had a chance to say “We need to move.” Abigail stood shaking her head amidst all the chaos.

“No. No, we ain’t leavin’ till I have my boy back!” She sat down firmly as if she could hold them all there by the weight of her stubbornness. “We ain’t leavin’!!!”

John stood by her and stuttered, waving his arms around in an attempt to communicate.

“You gonna let them leave him behind are you?!” She screamed up at him.

Arthur felt tense about the whole situation, they needed to go and quickly. He didn’t know how far away the Pinkerton's men were.

“C’mon now Abigail, we’ll be closer to him, we’ll be right outside Saint Denis.”

“I don’t care about Saint Denis! I want my son now!” Despairing and nonsensical.

“For Christ sake Abigail, we ain’t gonna be able to rescue him if we’re all swingin’ are we?”

“You can swing for all I care, Jack is innocent of all this.”

The stress of the situation was building in Arthur, a pressure in his chest, he took a deep breathe as Abigail opened her mouth again.

“This is all your fault John! You’ve put us in this life, in danger and now they’ve taken Jack and they’re going to come for us! How could you do this to us?!”

“Now hold on a minute,” Arthur gritted his teeth, trying hard to keep his head, “You knew what you was doin’ when you made him, you knew what we was when you decided to stay! Hell! You knew what John was like when he left the first time!”

“This ain’t none of your business!” Abigail spat, “You don’t know what it’s been like to look out for that boy by myself! You shoulda’ never came back John!”

John stood despondent, he believed her to be true, ashamed and guilty.

“Well maybe if you’d actually looked out for him properly instead’a runnin’ after John with your skirts up then we wouldn’t be havin’ to save him!” Arthur shouted, the rest of the camp instantly tuning in to the drama. Even Ms Grimshaw pausing to watch.

“Arthur.” Charles said sternly, stepping towards him.

“Well maybe-” Abigail stood up and marched to Arthur with a finger pointed out and back hunched like a street cat, eyes red with crying, wiping her nose on her sleeve, “Maybe if you’d spent more time worryin’ about your own child then he wouldn’t be in some shallow grave fester-”

“Arthur!” Charles grabbed Arthur as he stepped to her. He knew he wouldn’t hurt her but it was getting ugly. The big man was trembling with rage, jaw set and eyes aflame.

“You ever, ever bring up ma’ boy again Miss Roberts,” He growled through his teeth, “Then you’ll find yourself in a shallow grave as well.”

Charles let go of him, disgusted by the threat. Whether it had any intention behind it or not, it was still wrong and insensitive of the current issue at hand.

A hurtling palm smacked across Arthur’s left cheek, stinging and shocking him out of his anger. Susan stood before him and shook her wrist gently, Abigail behind her looking distraught.

“We raised you better then that.” Her face and tone full of disappointment. “Get back to work you lot! She shouted to the crowd before muttering as she walked away, “The show’s over.”

Arthur felt embarrassed and a fool. John shook his head and Abigail still seemed frozen to the spot.

“Abigail I-”

“Don’t Arthur! Don’t talk to me again!” She ran off crying as she had been doing so frequently in the time Jack had been gone.

 

Arthur and John rode mostly in silence as they went to find the new campsite - Shady Belle.

“What was that about Arthur?” John’s husky voice breaking the quiet.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, reaching a hand and self-consciously scratching the back of his head just underneath the brim. “I don’t know, I think losing Sean, losing Jack and now the Pinkerton mess...I don’t know, it’s just a lot to take in.”

He left out the fact he was struggling with the cornfield incident, the fragility of his mortality and the fear that it unlocked inside him. No longer the cocksure young outlaw who went in ego first; rationale after. He didn’t mention the heartbreak of waiting to be rescued by Dutch only to feel the long pull of hour-after-hour go by and nothing. He thought he was going to die there too, unwanted and unknown. Also leaving out the anxiety that creeps through his whole body like a burglar, every-time he gets too close to Charles, his desire for intimacy and the unrelenting confusion about how to cope with it when it comes.

John didn’t consider himself a learned man by any means, but he was a watcher, he knew Arthur was sensitive under the thin veneer of rough, murdering outlaw. Whatever it was, he’ll deal with it, John had enough problems of his own to be worrying about someone else.

 

Charles secured all the wheels on the wagons and helped load them up, Bill sat back and watched the camp pack up with mild interest. Even Uncle was attempting to help, he’d packed himself up and was wondering around the camp in his union suit, he’d thrown all of his clothes in the wagon and had given up trying to fish them back out. 

The girls were by their food store, packing the packets and cans into baskets while Pearson made a painful attempt at manoeuvring his large cauldron.

“He’s an asshole Ab, just ignore him!” Karen sneered, trying to give authority on the situation.

“You were pretty mean too.” Mary-Beth mumbled.

Karen opened her mouth in mock horror and looked to Abigail, always trying to dramatise any siituation.

“Mm-hmm.” Tilly nodded matter-of-factly. “I can see why he got mad after what you said about his son.”

“He threatened to kill her Tilly!” Karen provoked.

“Mr Morgan isn’t harming anyone.” Susan appeared, taking stock of the food, “It's not in his nature to hurt an innocent woman. You both said horrible things to each other, but you need to grow up and get over it. Mind you Abigail, Jack is most likely live and well and we’ll be getting him back soon once we make camp. That poor child, Isaac, he isn’t alive and well and you’ll do well to remind yourself how lucky your are to have the protection of these men.”

“But I didn’t ask for it, ya’ll wanted me to stay-”

“Because we learnt the hard way that there’s no protecting our young if they’re too far away.”

Abigail understood. In her head it made perfect sense, Isaac’s death set the precedent for child protection in the camp. Guilt crept in and she felt uneasy, Arthur was like a brother to her and she shouldn’t bit at him.

Charles watched on and took in what Susan had said, it still wasn’t on and Arthur needed to apologise.

They were ready to go and one last shout for Uncle; who’d located a large, wool-lined, blue coat and was sweating into it happily; and they set off.

 

It was muggy and foggy at Shady Belle and it had an eerie quality to it. As the caravan arrived Charles saw John and Arthur stood on a jetty by the water’s edge. They stood up as Pearson shouted “Land Ho’!” announcing himself, like a naval officer making harbour at a foreign country, but with all the grace of a whale beaching itself. As he jumped off the wagon, his rotund belly wobbling and threatening to topple him. 

Charles hitched Taima up near Gilly, knowing they got on well and would appreciate the company, Arthur strode over and smiled at how Charles had decided to hitch beside him.

“S’a same kinda country we fought that alligator in a while back.” He placed his hands on his hips and smirked fondly, “Seen a few of ‘em, can hear ‘em hissin’.” He looked to Charles who glanced at him sideways and continued to tend to his mare.

“What’s wit’ ch’you?” Arthur cocked his had and and thought for a moment, “Is it cus’ we’re further South? Don’t worry Charles, I’ll Pro-”

“I don’t need protecting.” He frowned and pulled his lip under his teeth as he heaved the heavy saddle off Taima’s back with a grunt.

Arthur lifted his hands defensively, “Alright, alright...was jus’ sayin’”

“I think you’ve said enough for one day don’t you?” Keeping his voice level Charles leaned back against his post, arms crossed and a hard stare at Arthur.

“This about Abigail? Charles you can’t begin to understand what it’s like to lose someone like that- Wait, Charles! I didn’t mean- urgh.” He pulled a glove of and rubbed his face as his friend walked away. Maybe it was the heat, but he just kept fucking up and saying the wrong things.

 

They’d nearly unpacked and Charles was avoiding Arthur who'd gone to unpack himself into the room. He decided to take a moment by the fire to craft his arrows, they were further South and he did need to be ready. Arthur was right about that much. He felt angry and he didn’t usually let people get to him like that, he knew what Arthur had meant and usually he filtered through the older man’s confused way of talking.

Maybe it was the tension, he pondered.

“Nice!” Sadie poured into his space and peered over his arm to admire his craftsmanship. “You are so talented Mr Smith.” She leant against him, there was something about Charles’s presence that resonated with her, perhaps it was his dependability or his gentle nature, she deliberately had taken to calling his surname. Making it into a nickname, in some ironic way it symbolised their closeness in friendship.

“Sure.” He held back from returning the physical connection, trying to privatise himself and hide in his feelings.

“I saw you two bickerin’,” She pressed cautiously, “Everythin’ alright?”

“Who, me and Arthur?” She looked to him quizzically.

“Obviously, who else?” Her eyes were relaxed as she placed a hand on his forearm. “Not to insinuate...but, you seemed okay the other day...”

“That was nothing.” He felt sour as he spoke.

“Sure didn’t look like nothin’ to me, you gotta remember, I’ve seen "somethin’". I'll remind you I was a married woman. So I know when I’m lookin’ at somethin’ and not nothin’.” She teased.

Charles turned his face to see hers. His eyebrows pulled in in confusion. She articulated as well as Arthur, perhaps better, but nevertheless…

“Well, maybe it was nearly...something, as you put it.”

Sadie’s bum hopped momentarily off the tree-trunk they were using as a bench, her grip on his arm tightened and she made a squeal that had Charles’s bewildered expression return. Realisation dawned on her as she turned to friend.

“I interrupted didn’t I?” He shrugged, “Oh but I guess I had to...what about later tonight? I heard Micah kicking off about not getting a room and Arthur getting his own, all to himself!”

Charles ignored the lurch in his gut. “Mm, but there is no obvious reason for a man to be in another man’s room alone...Also I am disappointed with the way he spoke to Jack’s mother.”

“Yeah, Abigail. Well she understands, I spoke to her about it. I get’cha though, he shouldn’t of said it.”

“He said some other things, some dumb shit.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows and leant closer to him, “That ain’t abnormal,” They chuckled, “Cut him some slack, you know you want to.”

“I think you’re right.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more racial slurs and slight reference to threatened assault on a woman.
> 
> Reread the last couple of Chapters and realised I'd contradicted my timeline, so as it stands, Arthur hasn't left for Sant Denis yet.

It was raining and the mugginess of Shady Belle carried the smell of damp grass and swamp clay. It was a nice smell in a natural sort of way, Arthur pondered to himself. He grimaced as he watched from a distance as the alligators shifted and curled into the mud. He’d focus on a spot only to be surprised again and again, whenever the mud shifted and metamorphosed into a hissing reptile.

It was getting late and he knew that he’d be riding out with John and Dutch early to explore Saint Denis and hopefully bring back Jack. Civilisation, he’d repeated to Dutch. They were so far away from what they knew and he was worried, worried that all Dutch could see was endless possibilities, when all Arthur could see was a place he didn’t know that they didn’t know...people like them just weren’t wanted here, less then that, they were being wiped out.

“Hey.” A low voice from behind gently called out. Maybe Charles had come to help make sense of his head.

“Charles.” He didn’t look to see his friend, “You come to give me a firm tellin’ off?” Arthur said without humour.

“Not my place, but you need to understan-”

“I understand, and I’m sorry Charles, you lost your family...your people. I ain’t mean to say you hadn’t lost nobody.”

“Not just them, I’ve lost you once...” Charles said carefully, he didn’t want to overwhelm Arthur with any large statements about his feelings and he felt nervous even hinting at it.

Arthur turned to him and stood, dusting his jeans with gloved hands. “I was gone four days, I’ve been gone longer then that.” trying to undermine the seriousness of Charles’s tone.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back. Sometimes we lose people and they’re gone. They never come back. Abigail feels just as frightened as you do, if not more.”

“I ain’t frighte-”

“You were reflecting,” Charles interrupted “your guilt for what happened to...Isaac?”

Arthur’s eyes welled slightly, voice cracking, “Yeah...Isaac.”

Charles stepped closer as though to shield him from the group in the distance.

“I-...” Arthur started,, “I feel guilt for them, for what they died for, for the fact I couldn’t just be a man and take care of them properly. I hadn’t grown up when she had to. It’s what gets to me about John, he has that opportunity to be a good Father to Jackie and he jus’ pisses it into the wind.”

“You can encourage him, but people will follow their own paths.”

“I know and Abigail, she’s so headstrong, she does take care of that boy...I shouldn’ta’ said what I did, I know that. Like you said...I was jus’ reflectin’ ma own guilt and what with Sean dyin’ on my watch too.” Arthur hung his head in shame.  
Charles stepped close enough to place a forgiving hand on his shoulder, “C’mon now, even if you’d lived with your son and his mother, you could have been running an errand in town or out earning money for them and it still could of happened. If these things are meant to happen, then they will.” His calm reasoning pulling a weak nod from his friend. “And as for Sean, well with the mouth on him, if it weren’t the Gray’s it would have been one of us,” Charles offered a smile and cocked his head lower to look up at Arthur’s face.

“You need to apologise though. That’s the Arthur I’ve come to know.”

Arthur sighed and straightened up, “I guess you’re right as always Mr Smith,” He thumbed his braces into place and they walked back to camp. Arthur stopping at his tent to pick up some more cigarettes. He glanced across the camp but he couldn’t see Abigail anywhere. Dutch had mentioned something about the rooms upstairs and she had one for her and Jack. Best not to disturb her he thought.

He joined the others who were trying their best to eat Pearson’s cooking, something unrecognisable, they hadn’t had the opportunity to get decent food since the move, conscious of the heavy raider presence and the Pinkertons in the area. The mood around the mess area was solemn, partly due to the food and it being the second night with Jack gone. All of them aware that the Braithwaite woman had planned to send him far away, each second spent not looking for him could be spent putting him on a boat, passing him from hand to hand until he was untraceable.

Karen chucked her bowl toward the fire, causing it to sizzle as the wetness of the food met the flame. “That...” She slurred, “Was the most, diss-disgusting bowl a’ shit I ever ate in my life...and I’ve put sssss-ssome...uhn...pretty gross things in ma’ mouth.” Pointing her finger at Pearson, her arm unsteady.

“You ungrateful little brat!” Ms Grimshaw snapped, “There are children desperate for gutter scraps out there who would kill for this food, they also wouldn’t drink us out of pocket!”

“Nah nah nah,” Karen mocked, “You an’ jer’ high ‘an’ mightiness...y’know what...” She stood with some effort and staggered to where Susan was sitting, finger still pointing. “You can go...and fuck yourself.” Grabbing her skirt up and pretending to do something vulgar with the other. The younger men sniggered and Ms Grimshaw stood suddenly, silencing them with her upright posture.

“You’ve always been a silly girl Miss Jones, but ever since that Sean passed-”

“Don’t you fucking bring ‘im into this, yeah he’s dead and I miss ‘im, but I’m drinkin’ because we’re all fucked. All this death an’ all I’m gonna have at the end of it, is bein’ a fucking whore!” Shouting at the last statement but taking a second to regain control, a small feat for someone so drunk. “Sean, well he was maybe somethin’ good left when this is all over, he was a good friend.”

Ms Grimshaw let her shoulders drop and pulled the forlorn woman into her arms, giving her a rub on the back, “I think, Miss Jones is going to retire for the evening, don’t you Karen?” Stern but not unkind, Susan lead her away from the group, bursting into tears as they got further away.

“All this damn cryin’!” Micah spat toward the fire, “This is why women shouldn’t be in gangs, they’re not cut out for the life.” His country accent resonating like an illtuned guitar being plucked. “I say we cut ‘em loose. Less mouths to feed, less lives to save.”  
Mary-Beth, Tilly and Sadie sat unblinking as they waited for Micah to finish his piece. Arthur keeping an eye on Sadie, she hated him and he knew how to rile her.

“It’s not like your puttin’ in, you aren’t earning the food in your bellies, the food I’ve risked life and limb for.”

“And what, Mr Bell would you suggest?” Said Tilly, not a single person, beside Dutch, liked the redneck. Least of all those that weren’t white and those who had vaginas.

“Well us lot tend to business, the older lot tends to the horses and the camp. I think it only right you women tend to us.” He leant forward placing his elbows on his knees.

“I wouldn’t even tend to your wounds if you were dyin’ let alone nothin’ else.” Sadie quipped.

A unanimous smirk amongst the others.

“See ain’t that the biggest shame, a fine lookin’ woman like you, it’s been a while since we took you from those mountains...bet’cha real tight and cosy down there.”

Charles shook his head and turned to the bastard, “The only attention you’ll ever get in life is that which you have paid for, I’d imagine that’s even with great suffering.”

“Oh-ho, well I nearly had ma’ chance with this one,” His eyes flicking to Sadie from across the fire, “Screamin’ and scratching in that little cellar, sweet little nightdress, I could’a done anything I wante-”

“You shut your goddamn mouth.” Charles stood, his broad shoulders and thick build was the only weapon he needed.

“Now now, redskin, she don’t belong to nobody no more...unless, ah-ha!” He slapped a hand across his knee, “You’re pokin’ the widow! I hear women like a taste for wild men. Between the bluegum here and the prairie nigger, you ladies are sorted! Oh and everybody’s favourite beaner.”

“The hell you just call me?” Lenny was always ready to go for Micah, any taunt was too tempting for him. Javier sat reposed, biding his time.

“You know you’re just as lazy as these women, strange coming from a man who’s parents were very hard working!” He grinned wickedly up at him.

Thack!

Micah slumped forward over his knees revealing Mary-Beth stood with a rifle poised in her arms, the butt inches away from where Micah’s head had been before.

“I think we’ve heard enough from you.” She spat on him, face scrunched up in a frown before looking to the others with a pleasant smile, bashfully brushing a ringlet from her face. “Why excuse my rudeness...Sweet dreams!” She pranced away with Tilly hurrying after her giggling wildly.

“Must we go through one more night of this crap?” Arthur said, getting a murmur of agreement from the others.

“Now you all know I have an opinion,” Bill started, three eye-rolls followed, so blatant they were almost audible, “But I ain’t never, never seen such a nasty bastard before in all my life.”

“Should we kill him?” Uncle offered innocently, “All this negative energy is making me sick, I’m sufferin’ enough as it is, my medical condi-”

“Guys he’s right?” Lenny said excitedly, “We could just tie him up, gag him, add a few large stones and chuck him in the river, the ‘gators would soon have him?!”

Javier looked up from the fire, “I’m down for just slitting his throat and getting it over with, we could hide him and Dutch wouldn’t have to know.” He looked toward the glowing window on the second floor of the house, “It’s not like he’s sat here with us having to deal with this shit?” Shrugging, Javier looked to the others.

“What do you think Arthur?” John asked, knowing that he would be best to decide given the hierarchy. Dutch and Molly forever tucked away, ignorant to the social mechanics of the gang and Hosea, suffering from his illness was taking respite on a bed for once.

Arthur scratched his head and looked to Charles who was despondent, “Hm...I don’t know, it’s not that I don’t want to...but if we’re gonna get Jackie back tomorrow and things get heated, we might need an extra gun on our side.”

“True, true...” Lenny nodded with the others.

A mixture of grunting and groaning sounded from the stinking mess on the floor.

“The chance came and went” Sadie huffed, hoping that it had been the former decision, but she understood. “I ain’t stickin’ around for what comes next.” She swaggered off, stopping to give a hard kick to Micah’s awakening body. “Fool.”

“That woman is somethin’” Javier smirked.

“So Charles...” Lenny turned on him, “I’ve seen you two together, like birds huddled on a branch, is there any truth to it?” 

Micah stood and straightened himself out, pausing a second before muttering as he stormed off, “Bunch’a suffragettes, perverts and immigrants.”

Charles smirked as he saw the back of Mr Bell retreating into the darkness where he belonged. “No, she is a close friend, she’s suffered a great deal and I can understand her pain.”

Arthur smiled as Lenny humorously nodded, lips pursed and eyebrows raised.

“Mmhmm…Close friends indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hadn't guessed yet from the way I write him, but I fucking hate Micah.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry for the wait! I don't even know if anyone's following this but if you are, it was just a blip, daily posting will resume!

Charles watched as Arthur rode out that morning, the whole camp felt nauseous at the thought of never being able to find Jack. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they had sold him off, would the gang split, what would Dutch do? Charles knew at this point, Dutch would find a reason not to go after him, though realistically they couldn’t all afford to move country to country and stay safe.

Abigail looked pale, she hadn’t been eating and her sunken eyes and dark circles showed the lack of sleep she was struggling with too. Jack needed to come back today, it had been too long, for his mother and for them all. Even Cain moped about the camp, a squeaky whine and sad eyes as he nudged his ball around the camp looking for him.

Sadie approached him as he chopped wood at the edge of camp.

“Hey Smith.” She leant against a nearby tree and flicked the brim of her hat up, nodded politely at Javier as he passed them.

“You okay?” He looked up from the axe and straightened up, loosing his shoulders and resting a hand on his hip, “You spoken to Abigail?”

“Yeah, she’s...well you can imagine, I hope they bring him back today, there’s gonna be some conflict if they don’t because I don’t see Dutch pushin’ it on if it’s not in arms reach.”

“I think you’re right. Something’s wrong, Hosea and Dutch seem at odds and Micah, he seems to have more sway with Dutch then Arthur or even Hosea.”

“So this is new?”

“I guess, I’ve only been with them about half a year longer then you have. Although there seems to be quite a lot of indifference about the Blackwater Heist.”

“Hmm, I keep hearin’ about that...so, did’ja’ speak to Arthur?”

Charles turned to meet her cheeky grin, eyes aglow above freckled and merry cheeks. Like a bright sun shining over a flowery meadow.

“I did, we’re good”

Sadie sighed, “Y’know as much as I said I dislike the conversation with those young girls, at least they say more then a couple’a’ words each time!” She punched him gently on the arm.

Javier trotted past, strumming a few notes on his guitar as he wondered toward the campfire.  
“la la la…está enamorado!...la la...” He looked to Charles and wiggled his eyebrows and winked at Sadie, before sauntering off and dancing with his guitar.

“What was that about?” She giggled.

“They think I want to take you as my woman.” Charles said, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, I’m nobodies woman for a start, I’m Jake’s woman,” Her eyes glanced to the ground momentarily, “But I am you’re friend, maybe even, confidante? She flirted and yet it didn’t feel raunchy or sexy, just friendly and he never felt more grateful for having someone like her in his life.

“Well, no actually, that would mean you’d need to divulge some secrets!” 

Charles shrugged, the time spent alone had left him somewhat socially restrained. Not being able to trust anyone, not being able to talk to anyone. No friends, no enemies and no company whatsoever. His interactions limited to buying supplies and the few quiet deflections to racist slurs yelled at him from time-to-time. She might not realise it, but beside Arthur, he’s told her more and let her know more then he’s let anyone know for many years.

“Perhaps I’ll slip up one day and tell you a few.”

Her smile relaxed and she pushed off the tree she leant against, “It’s okay Charles, I won’t push ya’, plus you tell me more then Arthur does. I don’t think he knows I know...about, you two.”

“I think he might now, he’s got a reputation to keep, if the men found out-”

“What d’ya think would happen? I ain’t never seen men like you until you, I know my folks had a thing or two to say and I caught a few sermons that weren’t too supportive, but Arthur’s their family?”

“Exactly. They might not think to kindly on men like us being known members of the gang, they might even turn away from Arthur’s inclinations but might send me away, or worse...”

“They wouldn’t, you’re both their best men?”

“Sadie, you know that sometimes the cruelty of men can be far greater then sense and rational thinking.”

She started to walk away and go about her business when she turned and placed a hand over his chest. “Charles if they sent you away, I would follow, you know that great idiot would follow ya’ too. It’d be the three of us, always.”

He nodded and looked at her fondly. He coughed and took a moment to adjust his stoic exterior before picking up the axe again, glancing around and hesitating on the campsite where Javier, Lenny and Uncle all waved merrily.

 

Arthur took a minute by the side of the road, bent over and leaning on hands placed just above his knees. Damn street kids. He spat and stood up, catching the disgusted look of an elderly Asian lady who walked past, “Stupid Cowboys”, she muttered under her breath.

Arthur nodded his head to her and picked his hat up from the ground by his feet, he gave it a quick dust before giving Gilly a whistle, hoping she’d hear him over the bustle of the busy streets and the ruckus of the trolleys. Obediently she trotted to him, ears dancing atop her head as she bit anxiously at the bit, unsettled by the unfamiliar environment.

“Me too girl, me too.” He gave her a reassuring pat. “Let’s go find Dutch then.” 

He walked her slowly as his eyes darted to-and-fro, so many different faces and languages, buildings so tall he got vertigo and markets with foods and smells he didn’t know existed. It had been a long time since he was running around the gutters and that was all the way back west, life was simpler then. Although, he glanced around, he’d of eaten a lot better if he’d been living off these streets.

He found Dutch, as usual looking rested and far too clean to be considered a working outlaw.

“Where've you been?!” He didn’t stand.

Arthur hopped off Gilly and strode toward him, sweat glistening on his forehead and he could feel his shirt clinging to his back.

“Got robbed, Christ sake.”

“You what? By who?” Dutch sat up eagerly, looking Arthur up and down.

“Damn street kids, s’alright, got ma’ shit back. Found out where Bronte is holed up at too.”

Dutch slapped his hands on his thighs and chortled, he got up and called over The Count. “I still remember picking you up from the dirt, snapping at me and Hosea through that tangled mane of yours, hungry and by God were you angry.”

“These kids seemed a lot more smarter then I was back then, plus there seemed to be a whole gang ‘o’ them.”

Arthur lead the way as John turned a corned and fell in, “We found ‘im?”

“Yes my dear boy, we are going to get your son back today.”

The sons nodded at their father’s promise, it had been a long morning and the heat of the sun as it rose higher into midday tired them, Arthur gave a silent prayer that there would be no gunfight.

 

Bill Williamson plodded through camp, his heavy build could be an asset, thought Charles, if he wasn’t so lazy. He slung his satchel to the bedroll he occupied and grunted at the men. Grabbing himself a beer and thrusting a hand down his jeans, leaning against Pearson’s wagon and swigging on the lukewarm beverage.

“Mr Williamson, please can you act with some decency for once in your life.” Ms. Grimshaw sighed.

“I’m keeping it warm is all, ain’t no one’s business but my own.”

“It’s all cosy under that big belly ‘o’ yours, tucked in so tightly ain’t no cold air gonna get to it,” Karen teased.

“Or anything else for that matter!” Tilly giggled.

“Oh would you all just shut up?!” Abigail shouted, throwing down the pot she was scrubbing. “I’m sick of it, Bill, you ain’t gettin’ none of these girls so try your luck in Valentine. Karen, you’re just bein’ nasty because you’re afraid people won’t take you seriously and Tilly, you gotta’ stop hidin’ behind Karen, she ain’t worth it!”

“Now hold on a second-” Bill started before being cut off by Karen.

“Now hold up Princess, I’ve cut you come slack recently because Jackie’s gone, but you need to remember where you came from. It weren’t too long before you were bein’ passed around from man to man, bein’ fucked by each and every one’ a’ these guys, includin’ Bill. Now I’m sorry if we like to pass the time with some jokes or a little conversation, if you don’t wanna hear it then I suggest you go find another camp. Maybe one were you weren’t a cock-hopper so you can be miss uppity shit all you like.” Karen spat, too many times had she had to deal with the likes of Molly and other women who looked down on her.

“We came from the same beginnin’ you an I. So you can either sit down or fuck off, because you can’t tell me what to do.”

Abigail felt frazzled, she picked up her skirts and went to in the shade of some trees away from the girls, her emotions running high and getting the better of her.

The men who’d stopped there conversations continued in earnest once she’d disappeared and Karen had sat back down. Charles had been sat nearby, eating some stew and trying to look as though he wasn’t eavesdropping. Sadie sat down beside him and grinned eagerly between them.

“I do hope Abigail thumps her one when she’s good an’ ready.”

“I think they both are broken women, they clash because they are feeling the same way but dealing with it separately.”

“You’re always so damn sensible. D’ya think they really all slept with her though? I mean, even Uncle?”

Charles looked across to Uncle; who was sat spread legged on the ground with his union suit opened almost scandalously, flicking bits of flint and God knows what from his belly button; then back at his food, pausing a moment before pushing it away from him.

“If she did, I hope he paid her well.”

“Ain’t that the right! Hey, do ya’ think it would be inappropriate to ask her?” Charles gave her a look, “Obviously after we got Jack back, I’m not a moron. Oh hey Abigail I’m so glad you’ve been reunited with your child, by the way when you were the camp prostitute did’ja ever hit up Uncle?”

Charles snorted and Sadie chuckled smugly, she made him laugh and that felt like a small achievement. He looked to her and shook his head fondly. She mimicked him and they both giggled happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this felt like a filler chapter, the juicy stuff is coming!


	24. Chapter 24

It felt like a dull day at camp, no one really going anywhere, sticking nearby in case they’re needed at the drop of a hat. Javier spent most of day teasing Pearson, sat on his chunky wooden table and poking him occasionally with his knife. Micah had rounded on Bill, no doubt spewing his filth into his susceptible ears. Karen had made peace with Abigail and they’d hugged it out, Ms Grimshaw raising her eyebrows and busying them with work, trying to keep everyone as occupied as she could. Lenny and the Reverend were debating over methods of preaching, Uncle sat and listened, expression blank. At least he was dressed.

Charles had kept himself busy with cleaning the weapons and loading all the watch rifles, completing inventory with Sadie. They all continued like this until the light began to dim, the setting sun calling them all to dinner around the fire, no Arthur or Dutch or John.

“So...” Karen started, “How long we leavin’ it?”

“They’ll be back, I know Dutch will do whatever he can.” Javier nodded, his indefinite belief in the man was honestly frightening to Charles.

“If they don’t, then I reckon the strongest should take the lead.” The sly comment coming from the evil grin across the fire, “I think in this situation, that would be me.” Micah sat back on the small chair, a creak out of the legs as he rocked back.

“The strongest person here is Charles,” Mary-Beth squeaked. A few heads nodded in agreement.

“But, we don’t need to worry about that right now.” Javier pushed.

“Abigail! Abigail! Come here, we’ve got someone to see you!” Dutch’s voice boomed victoriously, Molly twitching the curtains at the house, as she watched Abigail sprint across the muddy ground to wrap her arms around her child.

“Silly boy!” Tears ran down damp cheeks as she smiled for the first time in days. Jack not aware of the emotional relief in her crying.

John dismounted but was shunned by her as she thanked Dutch and Arthur. Dutch who absorbed the gratitude so readily, hungry for the recognition, Arthur who shrugged and mumbled but accepted a kiss on the cheek. They whole gang cheered and surrounded Jack who lapped up the attention, immediately telling them all tales of fancy slippers and spaghetti dinners.

Charles felt a pull in him, staring at Arthur from across the campfire, everyone singing and merrily shouting thanksgiving for the return of their boy. Arthur had his hand on John’s shoulder, presumably muttering some encouragement as he thanked Arthur and headed to join Abigail and Jack.

Arthur swaggered over, a big smile on his face, this seemed like the first win for the gang in a long time. Molly had even crawled out of her cave to enjoy the atmosphere, Micah however had grumpily stormed off to the back of the house, away from the excitement. Clearly hoping for another outcome, he wasn’t shy about his feelings regarding the ‘extra mouths to feed.’

“Ain’t that a pretty sight.” Arthur’s hands resting on his belt as he came up beside Charles.

“It’s good to have him home, was he okay?”

“Mm, they fed him good and even learned him some ‘talian words. Though Dutch has got us wrapped in some of Bronte’s business in Saint Denis...”

Charles stood with his arms crossed over his chest, he leant to bump shoulders with Arthur, “Well, lets deal with that when it comes.”

“Agreed.”

Javier pulled them all into a song, everyone bar Micah sat and tried their best to sing along, some knew the words and other’s sang a second behind the others until they picked up the chorus. Charles and Arthur sang along, Arthur’s voice blunt and loud over the others as he waved his arms along. Jack danced in his mothers lap, not usually allowed to enjoy the camp frivolities.

The song ended on a messy chorus, most of them shouting and in different keys, Abigail said Jack’s goodbyes and walked him to the house, a peace returned to her and it seemed she would be finally able to rest.

 

The drinks were shared around as Dutch, Arthur and John retold the story of his rescue. Tickled tipsy, the gang fell into their clicks, no tension and no crossed looks. Arthur pulled away and headed to the edge of the water toward the jetty at the edge of Shady Belle. Micah grunted and retreated to find Dutch, not wanting to be near the others.

Charles followed Arthur, who offered him a cigarette and then lit it. 

“That smile suits you.” Charles’s expression was warm, he was relaxed by the whiskey and the bubble he found himself in with Arthur whenever they were alone.

“Could say the same ta’ you.” Arthur grinned back at him, talking around his smoke, “I think we should go first light.”

Charles looked confused, “Where?" He took a long drag of his cigarette, "What for- Oh...our trip?”

“That’s if you still want to,” Arthur said stepping toward him. Their foreheads close to touching.

“I think you know the answer to that, but I don’t think I’m going to sleep at all.”

The blond man’s eyes caught the moonlight, the glow of the distant fire no longer lighting his face up, but Charles thought he seemed to glow. Arthur felt his heart thudding heavy inside him, the damp air was licked with excitement, his senses prickling at all of Charles’s movements and each word he spoke.

His voice broke slightly as he spoke, “I seem to recall you tellin’ me that talkin’ can help, if you need ta' get tired.”

Charles could feel Arthur's nervousness, they were alone, unwatched and uninterrupted. A commodity in this camp.

“So what do you want to talk about Arthur?” Their noses brushing gently, feeling each other’s warm breath; the smell of whiskey, cigarettes and lust; their bodies slowly coming closer to one another.

“You.”

Charles kissed him, pressing hungrily at his body, his hands on Arthur’s back. Clutching at his shirt and pulling it up from inside his jeans, his tongue running over Arthur’s as they both moaned.

The older man going straight for Charles’s hair, slipping fingers through the silky mane and pulling their mouths as close as he could, desperate to become one. It felt like violence, like all the parts of him that pushed him on in a fight were telling him to devour Charles but in a different way. He’d spent so long worrying about whether or not he was ready and now he was breathless and driven like a rutting animal.

“Not here, we can’t do this here.” Arthur panted.

Charles nodded, the small shed by the jetty where Strauss normally lurked was the closest private place, he pulled Arthur by the hand as they slunk in through the door.

The empty building was a tight space, large nets and crab cages hung from the roof, knocking their heads as they stepped further in. A couple of canoes hung on rungs taking up most of the space, only leaving Strauss’s makeshift desk, littered with paperwork and animal baits.

The kissing picked up again, messily and clumsy, mouths wet with spit and the clumsy clash of teeth as the hands that wandered tentatively over backs and through hair became braver, travelling further south.

Arthur pressed kisses across Charles’s cheek and down to his neck, his hands working the belt around the other man's trousers.

Charles rolled his head back, eyes fluttered shut, his lip between his teeth as Arthur lead the way. “Don’t feel like you have to...” He gasped into his ear, the short blond hair tickling his cheek.

“I want you Charles, I don’t know how, I just do.”

Charles pulled back and flicked his eyes to the fierce blue ones across from his, he pushed Arthur hard toward the desk. Facing each other Charles stared at him hungrily, “Do you trust me?”

“Do you know what’cha doin’?”

“Not really, I just know what I want to do, with you.”

Arthur huffed, “Well there ain’t been a single thing you ain’t good at yet.” His skin was flush, the heat of their bodies making his skin feel hot beneath his clothes.

Charles leant in for a kiss and whispered into his ear, “Turn over.”

Arthur swallowed, he trusted Charles, but he felt vulnerable to him. “Charles-”  
“We’ll go as far as you’re wanting to go.” Charles pressed kisses to the back of his neck as he turned underneath him. Arthur worked the buttons of his own shirt and slid down the braces from his shoulders, while Charles undid the buttons that held his jeans, working each one carefully as he kissed Arthur’s exposed back as the shirt fell to the floor.

“You better be takin’ your shit off too.” Arthur joked nervously, “One hell-of-a prank if you thinkin’ about leavin- me here all nake-”

The shuffle of clothes and the sound of something clunking to the floor had Arthur peer over his shoulder as Charles had removed his gun belt and dropped his trousers, pulling his shirt up over his head. Blue eyes flicked over the strong and dark body behind him.

“You talk so much when you’re nervous.”

“I ain’t ner-” He trailed off as Charles wrapped an arm around his belly and pressed himself against Arthur’s back. They breathed heavily as they enjoyed the rapture of being naked together, Arthur could feel Charles, aroused and pressed hard against his ass. Placing a hand around his own dick as the tension mounted, Charles pressed soft kisses onto his shoulders and bit gently at the muscle near his neck. Their bodies seemed to belong like this, together like swirled marble, perfect physical harmony.

Charles kissed down his spine, resting on his knees as he got lower.

“Wha-what, what are ya’ doin’?”

The younger man was pressing wet kisses to Arthur’s lower back he then moved his side and bit gently at his hip, a hand gripping the pale, freckled thighs firmly.

“Let me show you, what I want to do. Trust me.” Charles gave a moment before continuing on to Arthur’s ass cheek. Charles, felt hot, his desire pushing him to do things he hadn’t ever explored with women. He placed his hands on either cheek and pressed his thumbs to move them slightly.

“Charles, I don’t know what-” Charles licked gently but pulled his head away to look at Arthur.

“We can stop Arthur, if you wan-”

“No, I just, I wasn’t sure...”

Charles smiled up at the red face above him, “if you would like it?”

“Mmhm.” Arthur groaned as Charles continued, pulling at himself, the sensation was so new. He’d been in someone’s mouth before but this felt so different, wanting it to stop but to continue at the same time, his body jerking akin to the sensation of tickling. 

Charles had started not really sure of what he was doing, his body seemed to be telling him what to do, his face was damp from the spit. His cheeks resting on the moist hair that downed Arthur’s ass.

He stood and pressed their bodies flush again, Arthur turned back, lips catching again.  
Arthur’s face was a picture, the tussle as they’d snogged into the shed and the grabbing hands had left his hair disturbed from the pomade and sweaty strands hung over his eyes. The blue was hidden under heavy lids that were wet at the corners, his lips a deep red as the blood pushed away the dents left by his teeth.

“You good?” Charles nuzzled the back of his head as he’d turned back, allowing the vulnerability that had once shied him away.

“Sure.” Charles bit his lip and nodded to himself, he rubbed around the head of his cock, wet and ready, he spat into his hand slicked himself.

“You relaxed?”

Grunts and moans was all he was getting now, that was enough encouragement for Charles. He pressed a finger into Arthur, who’s breathing stuttered as a wave of heat ran through his whole body that even Charles felt it. 

“You’re shy even now?” He worked the finger slowly and then once Arthur’s shoulders dropped and he relaxed into it, he pulled out.

Arthur was panting heavily and he quickened the hand around his dick, “That...didn’t hurt like I thought...”

“That was my finger.”

“That was? Oh...I-uh...”

Charles pressed his nose into Arthur’s hair and breathed in his smell, his hair was slick with sweat. The humidity of the swamp and the lust was creating a hot pocket of air in the shed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No! I mean, no...”

Charles pressed carefully against Arthur, who pleasured himself in his hand as he screwed his eyes shut. As he pushed in slowly. Charles exhaled a groan, his body felt suddenly fuzzy, he bit his lip as he pulled out and pushed in further each time. Moving slowly as Arthur’s pants became louder and more solid.

“Fuck.” Arthur grunted, the stimulation from both areas felt like a contrast and yet both seemed to tug in the same direction.

Charles’s turn to be wordless, setting into a steady rhythm. They both let themselves be pulled into the motion between them. Charles’s hair falling in strands over his face as his hands felt slippy on Arthur’s sweaty back, he opened his eyes suddenly as Arthur’s murmurings became more blunt and sharp, he picked up the rhythm to fall in with the frantic pace of Arthur’s arm.

Arthur’s breathing staccatoed into deep grunts as his head lolled back and his body shuddered, Charles didn’t hold back and pulled out, spilling over Arthur’s back. Hot, sweaty and recovering breath, they stood a moment.

Charles stared at Arthur as he leant over the desk. One hand on his hip, he pushed his long hair back with the other. Arthur kept his gaze on the desk, overwhelmed by his feelings, he turned slowly and bent forward. Drops falling from his forehead, he looked up at Charles.

Standing up he pressed a kiss to his mouth. “That was...”

“Yeah.”

They both huffed.

Arthur wiped the sweat from his arm and reached for his jeans, “I could kill for a smoke right about now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About spit:
> 
> So in my 6 years experience of anal sex, I've always just used spit, I never did any of that stretching stuff...I don't even know where that idea comes from tbh. Different folks different strokes I guess. The only time I ever struggled was if I wasn't relaxed/trusted the person. 
> 
> So I just wrote the scene from my own experience, hope you enjoyed!


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning the camp was littered with empty glass bottles and cigarette cartons. The hot Louisiana sun bore down on the bedrolls of last night’s victims, Charles woke up feeling clammy under his blankets and got up, setting to work on tidying up the camp. The clinking of bottles stirring some of the others as hands were pressed to heads and empty buckets were located in haste.

In the house Arthur rose comfortably to the sound of the camp waking up. Pearson barking orders and getting barked back at by Sadie, who wasn’t taking any shit with her hangover. Arthur smirked as their to-and-fro could be heard through his open window. Jack was singing to his parents in the other room, they’d all slept in there upon Jack’s request. Arthur sat up and stretched, it was hard to peel himself away from Charles last night, it would have been so easy to of snuck him upstairs. He didn’t regret it however, he could hear Hosea and Dutch talking in the stairwell, Karen moaning at them to stop shouting from downstairs.

There would have been no lie to explain the large hunter creeping out his room. He dressed himself, trying not to overthink his decision about which of his few shirts to wear, smell testing them and then looking longer than necessary in the mirror. Grunting as he tried to encourage his hair into place with the last of the pomade in his tin, scraping round the lid and strategically placing it just so. You’ve made too much effort, his brain chided, staring at his reflection as the words ‘obvious’ and ‘irrelevant’ crept into mind. Arthur shook the thoughts away.

He must be somewhat attractive if Charles wanted him, surely. One final and painful glance and he accepted the end result. Grabbing a crumpled carton of cigs off his table and strapping his gunbelt on he headed out the room.

“Morning Arthur!” Hosea said cheerfully, raising a hand and continuing to speak with Dutch, who had turned upon hearing his name, offered no greeting but shouted just as Arthur got to the last stair.

“Don’t wander too far this morning son, we have been cordially invited to socialise and integrate at the residence of Mr Lemieux, who is only the mayor of Saint Denis.”

“An’ why would you want me there? I ain’t hardly fancy ‘nough to be gracing the halls of the rich an’ wealthy.”

Dutch gave one of his signature self-assured smiles, “Oh dear boy, that is why I am taking you and Mr Williamson into Saint Denis this afternoon, to dandy you up.”

“Don’t worry Arthur,” Hosea chuckled, “If any one’s going to look ridiculous in a penguin suit, it would be Bill. Just keep your mouth shut and no one would no you’re just a hick outlaw in fancy clothing.”

Arthur shook his head and smiled, “Y’know, one of these days, I might jus’ surprise you.”

“I doubt that Arthur, there isn’t anything I don’t know about you.”

 

It seemed Bill had already received the plans for the evening, he was leant over a pale of water, being shaved by Ms Grimshaw. She was threatening scissors to his hair as Arthur passed close enough to hear. He through a hand up and nodded, making his way to Pearson’s cauldron, his belly gurgling in anticipation. Coffee in hand, Arthur turned to admire the rest of his sullen family. The girls were woefully scrubbing at clothes, Karen trying to do so with her eyes shut, nothing to protect her eyes from the blaring light of day. Javier was slumped over his guitar in the same place he’d been playing that night, cheek squashed onto the strings, drool pooling onto the wood, his mouth agape and snoring. 

Swanson leant beside him waving a cup of coffee under his nose, Javier lifted his head sniffing with eyes closed, dribble hanging from his chin.

“Here you go Mr Escuella, something to bring you back to dignity.”

A hoarse voice answered meakly, “Thank you padre.”

Arthur pulled up beside them as Javier straightened up and gulped at the hot drink, placing his guitar down behind the log he was sat on. The strings had left lines across his cheek like bizarre, symmetrical scars.

“What happened to you last night?” Lenny smirked, plonking down beside Arthur. He wore a light linen suit and looked as though he hadn’t been afflicted with the same sickness as the others. “I tried to get you to go to bed but you started shouting at me in Spanish.”

Javier clasped a hand to his face, “You know, I don’ even remember man.”

Lenny turned to Arthur, “How’re you feeling? You left the party pretty early.”

The older man shrugged and reached into his pocket and grabbed a smoke from the box, offering it to the others, Lenny took one and Javier reached out a hand but hesitated and belched. Shaking his head he clutched at his belly and looked away.

“Haha, alright then.” Arthur grinned.

“Morning.” Charles sat beside Javier, his hair was damp and lay loose about his shoulders. He had a steaming bowl of food and nodded to the others, “Stews out.”

Lenny clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly before hopping off his seat. Javier lifted his head up from the ground and turned to look at Charles, eyes then dropping to the food then spinning violently and spewing on the ground behind him, narrowly missing his guitar. Javier wiped his mouth and then crawled away to his bedroll.

“I hope that’s not any reflection on me.” Charles joked, turning his gaze to Arthur, who wondered for a moment if Charles shared the same self-conscious worries that he did. Strong build, supple skin and rich, dark hair. There was no way this man didn’t know he was beautiful.

“It’s too early for your jokes Mr Smith.” Arthur smiled, his coffee still undrunk in his hand.

“No need for the formality Mr Morgan,” Charles accepted the offered cigarette from his lover, “I have been inside you, you may call me Charles.”

Arthur snorted, “Whatever you say.”

Lenny returned bowl in hand, the others began to congregate around the fire, minus the few who did not partake in group meals. The caffeine had begun to perk up sickly faces and merriment returned to Shady Belle.

They all ate and laughed about the silly things they had done that night, teasing Javier who lay away from them, sitting up now and then to retch and then return to his side. 

Ms Grimshaw sat up suddenly and looked between them, “Hang on, where’s Kieran?” Peering round Charles’s big shoulders, “And Uncle?”

Everyone shrugged and looked from face-to-face as though they were hiding in plain sight.

“I think Kieran’s out fishing,” Tilly said, mouthful of food, she pressed a hand to her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, yes, that would explain it.” Susan nodded, “Now where is that fool of an old man?”

Karen giggled amongst the girls, “Maybe the lumbago finally took him!” She sang dramatically.

Abigail and John squeezed into the circle with Jack, catching the conversation, “Hey Karen!” Abigail’s voice was serious and for a moment the air went tense, “It’s a serious medical condition!” They all hooted with laughter. Javier’s tinny laugh sounded as theirs trailed off, stopping suddenly to throw up again.

As if summoned by name, Uncle skipped bow-legged across the camp toward them. Bottle in hand, in his union suit decorated with a manner of different stains. He had his hat on and the large, blue, wool coat he’d found at the previous camp.

“Someone call ole’ Uncle?” Greeting them with a gappy grin, “You shoulda’ said you was sweet on me Susan, you know’s I thinks of ya’ like the first water.” He leant to her to try and press a kiss on her cheek but she swerved and smacked him away fondly.

He pushed in and grabbed the spoon from Bill’s bowl and helped himself.

“D’you mind?”

“No I do not, thanks fer’ helpin’ the incapacitated.”

Lenny turned his head in surprise, “That’s a large word for your vocabulary.”

“Well I bi’n borrowin’ some ‘o’ ya’ learnin’.” Uncle tipped his hat toward the young man.

“That ain’t all you’ve been borrowin’.” Arthur frowned towards him, “What’ch’ou wearin’ my coat for?”

Uncle opened the coat with both hands revealing large sweat patches under his arms, “This is yours?”  
“That depends how well it washes, Susan could you-”

“I can’t make any promises Mr Morgan,” Susan chuckled, “But I’ll give it a go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to find Uncle's name on the wiki pages for him but I got nothing.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed some of the tags of the story, I'm just aware that I hadn't noted that as the story progresses, there may be some spoilers!

Arthur had never been to a clothes fitting. As he relaxed backwards in the large bath, he picked up the glass of brandy from the side table nearby, stretching his leg out and resting it on the edge. Dutch had thoroughly spoiled Bill and Arthur already with the fine bathing, after this it would be a fresh cut and shave and then off to get a suit. It all seemed unnecessary for one small party where they probably wouldn’t be doing much anyway.

Dutch had been like this lately, throwing himself into these big ideas, wasting money and lives all for silly daydreams. Hosea had said it a thousand times, being born into money brings a certain arrogance whereas chasing it only showed desperation. The way Dutch was going on already, told Arthur that his delusions were in full swing.

A soft knock on the door followed by sultry voice, “You need any help sweetheart?”

Caught off guard, Arthur instinctively pulled his leg back into the water, “Erm no, I’m good thanks.” Suddenly aware of his nakedness, he mumbled as he heard her walk away, “I ain’t no sweetheart.”

“Hurry up in there Arthur!” Hosea’s voice was shrill. He must of seen me send the girl away, he thought, glad he hadn’t called her in with an audience outside. He didn’t want her anyway and he knew why.

“Alright Susan, keep yer’ bloomers from twistin’!”

 

It felt good to be this clean, Bill even looked considerably better without the sweat and grease sitting on his skin, Dutch and Hosea didn’t seem much different. Hosea was a conman, no real need for getting dirty, those days were done...well mostly. Dutch, well he was just lazy. Idealising men like Janssens and Bronte, sitting at the top of his tower while the little people held it up. All that bollocks he’d spouted about the Braithwaite woman and yet here he was perpetuating his own hierarchy, using Arthur and the others to lay their lives at the drop of a hat so they could have the life Dutch wanted, not just a good life and a safe life but the Dutch Van Der Line fantasy.

“You seem quiet Old Man.” Bill plodded beside him as they travelled to the tailors. His beard looked in much better condition, on face value alone, Bill could be a wealthy business man even without the suit.

“What’chou’ callin’ me old man for?”

“You’s older then me.” Williamson looked smug, resting his hands on his belt buckle as they walked.

“That can’t be so...So you’re tellin’ me, that despite my ‘old-age’, I’m still runnin’ round doin’ this ‘n’ that an’ you can’t even liift’a’ hand to take a drink without sighin’?”

Bill’s smug expression fell into a grumpy frown.

“Now now gentlemen, for that is what we are!” Dutch nodded at them, eyebrows raised, reminding them to play the part. “It cannot be that hard to just maintain an air of decorum for just a couple of hours can it?”

“I dunno Dutch, you gotta ask Bill here, ‘cause it might not be on his list of capabilities.”

Williamson shoved Arthur who chuckled, raising his hands and stepping away.

“We’re here, c’mon now.” Hosea held the door and ushered them in. A short older man in pinstripe trousers stood waiting, he wore a red vest and a small pair of spectacles held in the crook of his nose.

“Good afternoon gentlemen, I believe we are expecting you for a suit fitting today?”

“Why yes my fine fellow, my associates and I are to be dressed in your finest, we have a very important dinner this evening and isn’t it only sensible to be impressive when agreeing on a contract?”

Even Hosea rolled his eyes at Dutch’s folly. The man nodded and smiled warily at Dutch, clearly not sure about what he was talking about either.

“Quite quite,” He seemed to be a fidgety little man, he made Arthur think of a squirrel, flitting about the shop and twitching. “Is it to be all four of you?”

Hosea stepped forward with a clip of money “No today it’s just the tw-

“Yes we’ll have four of your finest suits!” Dutch boomed handing over a bigger money clip.

“Save some for Tahiti.” Arthur mumbled.

The shopkeeper looked frantically between them all and then at the clock, “Francis!” He called, turned to them and grinning awkwardly, “I didn’t realise it would be four...um...that pushes the time out a bit, my eldest is training, he might assist-”

“No bother.” Hosea encouraged.

A tall, slender man came ducking through the doorway. He was pale, with even paler hair and a similar pair of spectacles rested on his nose.

“Francis could you take this two men to the fitting room and help them with whatever they need, I’ll be in the gentlemen’s suite across if you need me.” The small man hurried Dutch and Hosea away to be sorted.

“Yes Father,” Francis turned and indicated to another room with his long arm outstretched.

“Your momma must be a giant” Bill mused as he stared up at the young man as he passed him.

Arthur shook his head, “Please excuse my friend, his mother dropped him at birth.”

 

Charles was moving through his head again, he knew he must be dozing but he was quite comfortable listening to the hum of conversation around him. He was in a comfy chair with his head resting on his hand which was propped on the arm of the chair.  
Charles was washing his hair out, leaning over a cool stream. He held the dripping locks up by his head and ran a hand down the rest, rivulets of water cascading as the forest around him blurred into a peaceful silence.

“Sir?” Arthur’s eyes slowly opened and he straightened when he saw Francis looking over him, a fully suited Bill Williamson in the background. He became aware of the drool on his hand and stood up.

“Sorry, just listenin’ to Bill here dulls me to tears.”

Bill huffed, “Careful with that one, he may be old, but he’s dangerous.” He swaggered out the room and greeted one of the others.

“Mr--?”

“Morgan.”

“Mr Morgan,” Francis called him to a spot near the mirror. “Black tailored suit like the others?”

“Mm...yes.”

It was very strange hearing all of his measurements, in this one small instance, something so unimportant was the main topic of discussion. He stood in his underwear in front of his reflection, watching the younger man as he taped round the inside of his thigh.

“You have a lot of scars Mr Morgan, quite a few bruises too.”

“I have a jumpy mare is all.”

“What business is it you’re in?”

Arthur shifted, “Jus’ oppurtunists, we’ve dabbled in a few things.”

“Oh, I see, raise your arms.”

The suit looked really good. He’d only had to wait a short moment for Francis to take in the waist of the trouser, eyes focused down on the needle and thread, hands working swiftly and nimbly.

Arthur joined the others and the two tailors stood proudly. They all looked the part, suited and ready to go and mingle with Saint Denis’s finest. Dutch and Hosea paid and stood outside sharing a cigarette, discussing transportation.

Bill wasted no time in wasting the shopkeepers time, looking at the hats and insisting on trying them.

“Anything else we can get you Mr Morgan?” Francis inquired.

“Nah, I’m go-...wait actually, how much for that coat over there?” Arthur pointed to a large wool lined coat, not too dissimilar from his blue one. This one was a deep brown with a larger collar and lapels.

“That item is $90, on the account of the handsome finish.”

Arthur let out a low whistle, running his hand down the sleeve and touching the soft lining inside.

“However, seeing as you were our clothes so well, perhaps a discount at $80?”

Bill sauntered over, his shirt already slightly untucked and small sweat patches creeping through the underarms.

“Careful there Frankie, that might be the closest thing to flirtin’ our Arthur’s gonna get.” He snorted and marched outside as Arthur handed over the money.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Francis said quietly as he left, Arthur turned just before he stepped out the door and almost got hit in the face when he caught a wink. He pulled his lip between his teeth, brow furrowed, was there some secret message in the measurement of his leg that said he’d been sleeping with Charles. He pondered to himself.

“My my, my best boy.” Dutch beamed as he brandished a cigar, “Lets get this show on the road!”

“Show being the operative word...” Hosea sneered.

 

They all giggled in the coach to the party, Dutch momentarily remembering himself, mocking the types they were likely to rub shoulders with that evening.

As they pulled up, neither of them held back the open mouthed stare before they were pulled from the moment by the coachman pulling the door aside, nose aloof.

Hosea tipped him and they all ventured in. Arthur had never seen the inside of so many fancy places in such a short time lately. He could almost see where Dutch was getting his delusions from, but they were outsiders nonetheless.

When they found Bronte and his cronies it was apparent they were being laughed at, it was embarrassing to watch, almost like watching Mary-Beth run after him even when he was blunt and sharp with her.

The women stared at him over their fans. Heaving bosoms and the stench of pickled flowers and face powders, Arthur felt that Charles had brought so much change to his life. Attraction never played a part in his sex life before, if they were willing, so was he. These women were clearly wanting, perhaps desperate for a bit of scruff to liven up the otherwise monotone wifely duties with their fat and balding husbands. Arthur shook his head, all he wanted was Charles, Charles who had no bosoms and no perfumes and yet…

He stood still smiling long enough that a caterer handed him an empty tray and asked for a refill.


	27. Chapter 27

The party was as expected, a large waste of time and money, luckily no one’s life but that was yet to be decided. Their new ‘friends’ had many requests from their new outlaw acquaintances and Arthur was pretty sure it wouldn’t be yard-work or laundry.

They coached back to Eckhart stables in Saint Denis, saddling up their horses, they looked bizarre and out of place on the dark, road home. They saw the glow of Shady Belle through the trees as Lenny shouted a greeting, whistling at how handsome they all looked.

When they dismounted and got closer to the camp the others gave a similar greeting. Molly made a huge show about how a man should look, quickly turning from complimentary to angry, mad that Dutch hadn’t taken her and that she could of got a new dress. He stormed off toward the house with her gnawing at his ear until they were out of earshot. Hosea shrugged and mubled about how he was going to sleep through that racket, nodded his goodbyes.

Bill was thinking strategically, straightening out his suit and strutting with his gut out, toward Karen and the others.

“Well don’t you scrub up nice!” Sadie skipped over and did a circle round Arthur, “MmMm!”

“Hey Charles, you wanna watch out, there’s some competition amigo!” Javier teased, raising a beer at Arthur.

“You think that’s wise?” Arthur smiled, cocking his head and looking questioningly at Javier.

“Yeah, it’s alright, hair of the frog...or whatever Sean said the othe-”

It went quiet a moment as they all missed the loud Irishman.

“Say, did that O’ Driscoll boy come back yet?”

Sadie shook her head, leading him over to the table where Pearson slapped down a bowl of food. “No sign of ‘im, I think we should organise a search party. We said about it while you guys were gone, but it just got ugly between the girls and Micah.”

“I don’t think Dutch would want to look.” Arthur said softly so that Javier, Uncle and John couldn’t hear him.

“Well then we go look ourselves.” She hissed under her breath.

A crunch of heavy boots in the dirt ground brought footsteps coming to the table. A deep voice interrupted their whispering, “What are you two talking about?” Charles bent to look between them both before standing up and taking the crate next to Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder as he passed, making out he was using him for support. “Sadie, you’re beginning to get a reputation in this camp.”

“What can I say, I’m a real catch.” She popped her chewing tobacco into her mouth and munched happily, looking between her friends.

“folks are gonna’ think you come huntin’ for a different kinda’ prey.” Arthur chuckled.  
“Speaking of which, Charles!” Sadie turned and looked seriously toward him. “Me and jawline over here are gonna go an’ look for Kieran, you in?”

“Jawline? Wha-, wait a second Adler, you know I gotta run it by Dutch first.” She dropped her shoulders dramatically and huffed like a disgruntled child.

“Why not jus’ say nothin’? You could say you was out takin’ a piss when you jus’ happened upon Kieran?!” Sadie held her arms up and cocked her head to the side.

“Or,” Charles interjected in his matter-of-fact tone, wise and conscientious as ever, “Arthur could ask Hosea? He’s as much a leader of this gang as Dutch is, he just is quieter.”

Arthur and Sadie nodded. Damn he was always right.

“So it’s all agreed then? Lets meet at sun-up and go get our boy back!” Sadie pumped a fist in the air. “Anyways, I guess I gotta go an’ get some rest!” She gave a little smirk at Charles before heading off.

“Nice suit.” Charles was hunched over, head low and eyes peering up from underneath thick eyebrows.

“I was hopin’ they’d bring you, could’a’ seen you all dressed up.”

Charles smiled, flicking his eyes to the campfire as Javier pulled them into a lazy rendition of ‘Clementine’. 

“I could always try yours on?” His expression unchanging, Arthur was certain that when Charles spoke like this, he didn’t blink.

“I-I...I don’t think it’d fit ya’ Charles. You’ve got broader shoulder’s then I have.”

Charles pursed his lips for a second and gave a sharp nod, “I was more interested in having you out of the suit.”

Arthur swallowed, he didn’t often get nervous, maybe on occasion like the brawl with Big Tommy or anything that involved Micah. Charles however, he just had a look that went straight through him, his confidence was a bright flame next to Arthur’s smokey wisp of anxiety.

“What is it Arthur? That makes you shy suddenly, you weren’t like this until we-” Charles lowered his voice to a near whisper, “Until that kiss at Clemen’s Point.”

“I dunno, this, well I don’t even know what this is. I guess I don’t want ta’ say the wrong thing or do somethin’ bad.” Arthur reached for his smokes in his suit jacket pocket.

“There’s no wrong or right in this.”

“See?” The older man exhaled a cloud of smoke, “You jus’ seem ta’ know what to say all the time an’ I can barely string a sentence together sometimes.”

Charles got a cigarette from Arthur’s packet in the middle of the table, a small gesture, but it reinforced all of Arthur’s feelings. Charles had taken him, he couldn’t quite admit it to himself, but he was his.

“I think,” Charles began, pausing to press the smoke to the lighter, “That you are worried, that maybe I just see this as a...physical thing?” He questioned gently.

He replayed the words in his head, he didn’t say it was or it wasn’t, Arthur felt like if it was just for release or company then he wouldn’t stop it. Arthur balked, he probably couldn’t even if he wanted to, now he knew how Mary-Beth must feel.

“Maybe.”

Charles leant back slightly, pleased to of got an honest answer. “It isn’t. It isn’t just that.” Their eyes met across the table. The usual camp ambience humming around them.

“Good.”

“What’s good?” Pearson slumped down heavily across from them, oblivious to the atmosphere he’d burst. “Yeah I guess it is tonight, got some decent meat finally.” He greedily scooped the wet mix into his mouth.

Charles and Arthur exchanged a glance and a sigh before Charles stood, giving Arthur a hard look before heading off to their usual hangout, the jetty.

The older man turned to the greasy naval officer, “How is it, that you spend all day slavin’ over that fire, cleanin’ up camp an’ only gettin’ to eat when it’s late an’ yet...you look like a fine roast pig, belly all swollen like a sow?”

“Are you always this cold-hearted all the time Morgan?”

“Only to you Simon.”

The thick grass was getting damper as condensation dewed the ground with the rising moon, it was a smell Arthur was fond of, treading toward the silhouette of his lover.

“We alone?” He asked gruffly. Charles nodded making a slight noise to confirm. Arthur pressed himself against Charles’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah, jus’, I don’t know how much longer we got, here I mean. Pinkerton’s down our necks on one side an’ then Dutch gettin’ us wrapped in schemes elsewhere. ‘sall about to go to shit, and then in the middle of it, is all of us. Ain’t no life for Jackie and the girls and if we’re on the run, we won’t get...you know…this.”

Charles turned and pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, “It’s on my mind too.”

Arthur leaned and kissed Charles, his hands cupping Charles’s face as Charles wrapped his arm’s around his lover’s waist.

Charles pulled away slightly and panted, “I want to sleep next to you Arthur.”

Their mouths joining together until Arthur replied, “Well, I snore an’ I’m a bit of a fidget, then sometimes if I’ve had a drink I ca-”

Charles silenced him again with his lips.

“I’ll see you in the morning Arthur.”

Charles pecked him on the cheek before heading to his bedroll. Arthur followed a moment after, walking underneath the window to Jack’s room where Abigail leant out having a smoke, snorting to herself as he disappeared from her eyeline. 

His boots heavy on the stairs thudding as his weight got heavier the closer he got to bed, only accompanied by the chink of his spurs, a solitary beat of the weary cowboy. Arthur hauled himself up the last steps with the bannister, stopping as he tried to locate the thumping coming from one of the rooms. The unmistakeable sound of a bedframe knocking against a hollow wall and the irritating squeals and squawks of Molly as she acted the part of someone who was getting fucked by someone who loved them.

“Christ sake.” Arthur cursed, stepping into his room and flopping onto his creaky single bed. It was bad enough not being able to have that freedom with Charles, let alone have to listen to these two, so bored of arguing they skipped to the only other thing they know.

He looked at the ceiling as the wails and moans hit crescendo, Molly was going for the big finish, he had to admit, she managed to stay in character, pulling out all the stops. Then nothing, for a moment.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

An angry Irish accent rang out in the wake of the ruckus. Arthur laughed aloud, at least there was some justice.

He shut his eyes as another argument started up, rolling to his side, close to the wall. It definitely would be nice to sleep next to Charles.


	28. Chapter 28

The next morning was fairly quiet. Dutch’s room had finally fallen silent in the early hours of the morning, Molly only holding her tongue to get some sleep. Arthur crept down the stairs and out the house, where he found Hosea by the coffee, forever an early riser.

“Morning Arthur.”

“Hosea.”

He busied himself with fetching a cup, noticing Charles and Sadie who were sorting weapons at the table. The sun had just risen and they were all moving as silently as they could. Hosea clunked and crashed around Pearson’s wagon, looking for food. The three friends winced every time the old man made a noise.

“Say, Hosea. What do you think Dutch plans on doin’ about Kieran?”

Arthur looked over his cup as he sipped the steaming liquid.

“I was wondering when you’d ask, you see Dutch raised you to be obedient, loyal and a soldier. You are all these three things and yet you have compassion, empathy and a heart. I hope I influenced some of that but I feel that those traits are yours alone.”

Arthur swayed on his feet, shrugging off the compliment.

“I don’t think Dutch has a plan for Kieran, I fear the boy will be left behind killed or tortured, perhaps the Pinkertons even found him.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s that, we would’a’ heard somethin’ by now.”

Hosea scratched his head and sighed, looking up at the house and then back at the outlaw beside him.

“Why don’t you go, it seems you were already going to, with or without our consent. If it is Pinkertons though, you know what to do.”

Arthur took one last gulp before chucking the rest out onto the grass, placing his tin cup back into his satchel.

“Yeah I know, high-tail it outta’ there an’ draw those fuckers away.”

“That’s my Arthur, now go and bring that boy home.”

 

As they trotted down the long path to Shady Belle, Arthur felt a sickness in his belly, something felt wildly wrong and he wasn’t sure what.

“So fellas’, where do we start?” Sadie questioned, looking to Charles who seemed to be the better one at locating people.

“Hm, Arthur do you remember where you were being held by the O’ Driscolls?”

Gilly plodded slowly rocking Arthur’s body gently as he thought for a moment, “I don’t really remember, I was barely alive...but I do remember crossin’ water by the bridge, maybe near Flatneck, could even of been further then that. Gilly took me most of the way.”

Charles watched Arthur’s dappled mare, ears twitching and tail flicking, she’d done well by him. He hoped Kieran wasn’t in the same position as Arthur had been, Charles wasn’t sure he’d hold out quite the same. Arthur hadn’t said what they had done to him but he knew if it was unpleasant enough to shake ‘The Enforcer' then it must have been awful.

“You thinkin’ they got ‘im?” Sadie offered.

Charles nodded clicking Taima awake, the appaloosa not familiar with early morning ventures anymore.

“It is the best place to start.”

Arthur grunted as he kicked Gilly into a canter, the group turning westerly, “Y’know, I gotta funny feelin’ Micah’s wrapped up in this somehow.”

“I dunno, he’s a piece of shit but Kieran is nobody to him.” Sadie raised her voice over the pounding of hooves.

They stopped at the main road from Flatneck near to where the road dropped down to the lake crossing.

Charles hopped off Taima and examined the ground. Scattered with prints going in all manner of directions.

“There was a group passing through here at a canter, but this is a busy route, could’ve been anyone.”

Sadie looked at him quizzically, trying to see what Charles saw, “I guess it would all get lost in the water even if it was them.”

Arthur had an idea dismounting and pulling Gilly behind him, “Lemme jus’ look for a second.” He tread down to the water and walked up along the edge to the right of the path. A small clearing shaded by the cliff that carried the train tracks above. “When we came back from Strawberry we stopped here real quick, it’s a long ride for the horses, there’s a chance they- here.”

Small brown spatters stained the grass by a tree standing in the shade of the overlook. Rope threads were stuck to the bark and there was more blood on the trunk.

A collection of dry hoofprints suggested a group of about five riders.

“I got somethin’,” Sadie held up a cigarette packet, “Got some kinda language on it. What’s ‘ee-i-arres?”

“Lemme see that.” Arthur grabbed the packet and nodded, his jaw clenching slightly. “Sean smoked these, had to get ‘em from import, they're Irish.”

Charles looked past the lake, “So it seems the O’ Driscolls passed through with a prisoner. If it’s Kieran, we rescue him and if it’s not, we save the other poor bastard.”

“I’m down.” Sadie stood hands on her hips.

They continued to ride, picking up the group on the other side, the water helped Charles to track, making the hoofprints more solid, long sweeping grooves in the mud showed a man being dragged along behind the horses. This didn’t look good.

The three came up to small homestead well covered by the trees around it, despite the high afternoon sun, a group seemed to be sat at a makeshift camp out front. Charles, Sadie and Arthur lay on their bellies, the horses a distance away, Arthur peered through his binoculars at the men. There were four of them, he could see, he counted the horses. Five. He scanned again before flicking back to the horses.

The recognisable flaxen-roan mare pawed anxiously at the ground, one of the other horses raising it’s lip, huffing and snapping at the stranger horse.

“He’s here.”

“You see ‘im?” Sadie grabbed the binoculars from him.

“He must be inside.” Charles said, putting away his own pair.

Sadie stood and stopped, noticing a man’s leg sticking out from behind a tent. A sudden flashback of Jake, who jumped so bravely in front of her, killed in split second without a single thought.

“Guys.” She swallowed, Grabbing Arthur’s arm as he walked passed her. They turned, Charles face pulled into a concerned expression. “There might be other people in that house, watch where ya’ shoot.”

They nodded, following her eyes to the leg.

One of the men stood and walked toward them, looking for a place to relieve himself, they quickly ducked behind the trees. The man unbuttoning and pulling his cock out, shuddering as his piss spattered on the foliage, not hearing the soft brush of wood as Charles nocked an arrow and took a breath before shooting him straight through the eye.

They all crouched, sneaking toward the others, using the tents as cover. Arthur felt Charles’s exhale as he drew back another arrow, pausing before nodding to the others and standing suddenly pointing the bow at the nearest head and shooting, as Sadie and Arthur shot at the other two. Arthur catching the man’s shoulder, a splat of blood landing on the plain canvas in front of him. Sadie blowing a hole in the chest of the third man who rushed to her, a wild cry on his lips as he waved a knife, the shotgun knocking her back and jolting her arms.

Arthur dropped as a bullet singed over him, jumping back up and firing into his guy’s face. A nasty hole appearing where his nose was, blood gushing from where his mouth met the wound, gurgling and bubbling before dropping forward collapsing the tent over the dead man beside him.

“Phew.” Sadie exclaimed, hoping that would be a comfort for the homesteader who’s home it was.

A muffled scream came from inside the building. Arthur kicked the door as a woman writhed in the ropes that bound her, eyes wide with panic, swollen from crying. She jerked her body away as Arthur dropped down in front of her, the gag tied around her mouth was wet with spit and tears, an animal howl cutting through the older man as he pulled it from her mouth.

She threw her head forward biting hard on his shoulder, instinctively pushing her back and clutching at the bloody tear in his skin. Red staining his shirt and dampening the patch that had only just been sewn on where he’d been shot not so long ago.

“Stay away from me!” She screamed, bolting forward again, the ropes burning at the flesh around her collarbones, Arthur kicked his legs out to push himself away.

Sadie rushed past him, hands out in a show of mercy, she shushed the frantic woman and slowly pulled her knife to work at the ropes.

“It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt you, we came for our friend.” The woman’s pupils blown in fear, looked between them and then up at Charles who blocked the light in the doorway, whimpering and curling into Sadie. 

“Th-th-the b-b-boy?” She stuttered.

“Is he here?” Sadie pressed gently, pulling the last of the rope from around her waist, freeing her from the supporting pillar in the room. Charles had stepped into the home, searching the back rooms.

“He’s here.” Arthur followed his voice and Sadie looked to the woman and gave a small smile.

“Th-they hurt him b-b-bad.” The woman tried to control her breathing, her whole body shaking.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, lets get ya’ outta here.” She helped her up, grabbing a blanket from a chair and wrapped it round her shoulders, an arm around her as they walked out the door. The woman threw her hands to her a mouth, stifling a scream as she saw the three dead men bloody and wounded in a pile. Her hands dropping as she ran to the other lifeless corpse.

“No no no...” Her voice wobbling as tears began to stream down her face. Sadie felt weak, this was how the others had first seen her, utterly destroyed by grief and terrified. 

“Is there someone we can take you too?”

“I-I, Oh god!” She wailed, “I have an A-Au-Aunt j-just outside o-o-of Strawberry.”

Sadie nodded, glad that there where options for her. “I’m Sadie, what’s your name?”

“E-E-Elodie, this-this was Albert.” She pulled at the ring around his stiff finger.

Charles and Arthur came out, Kieran supported on their shoulders, his feet dragging and head hanging low. Resting him down against some of the O’ Driscoll’s belongings.

“We can’t move him too far like this.” Charles spoke to Sadie who bit at her lip, looking at Elodie.

“I gotta get her outta’ here, if more O’ Driscolls come-”

The woman snapped her head round at that, “I can’t stay here, I-I can’t go through it all again.”

Sadie nodded and reassured her, giving a look to the two men and taking her inside to collect some things. Pulling herself on Bob whilst Elodie grabbed one of the dead men’s horses.

“Th-they killed ours.” She blubbed again.

Sadie giving one last glance to her friends, looking down at the unconscious body of Kieran. “Get ‘im home safe.”

“You too.” Arthur tipped his hat as the women galloped off in a pool of dust.


	29. Chapter 29

Charles turned to Arthur, “We need him awake, there could be more coming.”

Arthur nodded, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a bent star badge. “I have an idea, put him on Gilly, anyone asks we jus’ say he’s a criminal.”

Charles shrugged and they moved him together, the slender man surprisingly heavy, they’d checked for blood but found no open wounds. Arthur tied loose ropes around his legs for effect. He slung him over the saddle, carefully sliding down behind him and heaving his body onto his lap, he needed him secure in case a chase broke out. Arthur turned to ride away when Charles shouted,

“The horses, Branwen...”

“Shit yeah.”

Charles waved a hand, “I’ve got it,” Untacking the other horses and shooing them away, Branwen stamped a warning before accepting the gentle hand on her muzzle. Charles breathing softly in her nostrils, before taking her reigns and tying them to Taima’s saddlehorn. Riding up to Arthur, Branwen stretched out her neck to sniff at Kieran, ears back and whinnying.

“It’s alright girl,” Arthur clucked at her, as they turned from the property at a fast trot.

 

They crossed the lake and diverted up past Flatneck, so they could stop somewhere relatively safe. The afternoon soon was mellowing into sunset as they cut across the long grass, changing course so they were untraceable to anyone without tracking skills.

The air was cooling as the sky got dimmer.

“What about Sadie?” Arthur asked as he patted Gilly, Kieran placed carefully on the ground as Charles set to building a fire.

“If she’s smart, she’ll stay up in Strawberry.”

“Hmm, I guess.”

Charles glanced up at the concerned blue eyes, “She’ll be fine Arthur.”

Arthur scratched at the back of his neck and began to pull out what medical supplies he had in his satchel. Harrumphing at the meagre offering he had.

The fire crackled into life as Charles peered over his shoulder, picking up a bottle and turning it in his hand, “I’ve got a few things too.”

The flames were licking strongly by the time Kieran stirred, jolting awake and regretting it as he clutched at his stomach. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. Charles looked up at him from the pestle in his hands, Arthur who was sat not too far from him stopped scribbling and smirked.

“You’re tougher ‘an you look.”

“Any broken ribs?” Charles interjected.

Kieran groaned and pulled up his dirty, torn shirt. There was bruising but nothing to indicate any broken bones. “I-I don’t think so. Why’d you come after me?”

“Couldn’t let you rat, had to kill you all otherwise.” Arthur teased before looking sternly at him, “Did you say anythin’ even the smallest thing?”

“I didn’t I swear, I’m promisin’ ya’ Arthur, I swear I didn’t say nothin’” He waved his hand worriedly as Charles stepped toward him, crouching down and placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

“We believe you, don’t we Arthur?”

“Yeah sure. What did they want with you?”

Kieran watched Charles cautiously as he applied a paste to the cuts on his face.

“They wanted to know where y’all were stayin’, they know it’s near Lemoyne because they picked me up there. They said if I gave away Dutch they wouldn’t kill me.”

“So why are you still alive?” Charles’s eyebrows raised.

Kieran’s eyes dropped and a forlorn look crossed his face. “They tried everythin’ to get me to talk. They said to speak or they’d kill the young lady there. They-they were beatin’ on her when I didn’t speak...did-did she- was she dead?”

Charles turned to Arthur and blinked, checking in for reliability. Arthur joined Charles and knelt by the injured man.

“Sadie got her outta there, she’ll be fine.” He took his hat off and examined the younger man, “You did what you had to do. S’more then Dutch would’a’ done for you.”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

Charles gave a cutting look to Arthur, trying to shut him up. Arthur frowned and continued, “He’s too preoccupied for rescue missions, he didn’t think ‘bout goin’ back for me, so he definitely weren’t goin’ back for you.”

Charles sighed and looked sympathetically toward him.

“So you-you guys jus’ came, for me?” Kieran’s face brightening slightly.

Arthur deflecting straight away, “Well I owe you a life debt, guess I had tuh’...What Charles?”

“Nothing.” The hunter smiled.

“Well I sure am grateful Arthur, They would’a’ killed me.” Kieran stretched a hand out and Arthur shook it, the rope burns around Kieran’s wrists looked angry.

“You just get some rest now.”

 

Kieran dozed lightly as Charles cooked over the fire, Arthur putting both their tents up, then walking round the perimeter of the camp. The sky had darkened when Kieran sat up, coughing dryly.

Charles passed his waterskin, watching as the fluid dripped down Kieran’s scruffy facial hair, he guzzled greedily and gasped for air when he pulled it from his lips.

“Hey, save some for the journey back.” Charles took back the skin as Arthur handed Kieran a bottle of whiskey, reaching back for a chunk of rabbit meat and giving him that too. A hand snatched hungrily as he gobbled it down eagerly.

“Woah go easy there.”

Kieran spoke with a mouthful, “They didn’t feed me.”

The other two nodded as they watched him wolf down the meat and gulp at the liquor.

They sat quietly eating and drinking, resting after the long days ride. Kieran making steady progress on his bottle, Arthur contemplated taking him from it, but figured he deserved it for not selling them out. Duffy was brave as fuck.

Charles stirred him from his thoughts by brushing his fingers with his own, Arthur looked down and took the cigarette being offered, grateful for the little touch. Lighting it up and relishing the tickle of nicotine. He glanced at the younger man’s desperate eye’s watching from across the fire, snorting, Arthur leant across taking a step and handed the lit cigarette to Kieran. Accepting another from Charles.

“Hey Arthur, what-what colour eyes would’ja’ say you have?” A tipsy voice questioned. Charles smirked at Arthur and looked back at Kieran.

“An odd question Duffy.” Deliberately calling him by his last name, no longer to be called O’ Driscoll ever again.

“Nah’ hear me out, I want’s ta’ get Mary-Beth somethin’ an’ she said she likes the colour of his eyes.”

Arthur shook his head and took a swig of the beer he was sharing with Charles.

“Kieran you do understand tha-” Charles started

“I knows what’cha’ gonna’ say, but I asked her an’ she said she didn’t fancy ‘im.”

Charles started but stopped, looking to Arthur.

“Plus I got plain brown’s an’ I think she was jus’ pickin’ a colour.”

Arthur looked at Charles, “They’re just blue ain’t they?”

Charles squinted, “Can’t really say more then that in this light. Maybe she wants something turquoise?”

Kieran smiled happily to himself, “I think she’s purty. Never seen no gal purtier. I could’a’ died an’ I’d a’ never told her I think she’s perfect.”

Arthur grinned and raised the bottle in his hands, “To you an’ Mary-Beth!”

“If she’ll have me, I ain’t much but-”

“C’mon now,” Charles offering some of his kindness usually reserved for Arthur and Sadie, “You’re trustworthy, brave, I don’t think women usually want much more.”

Kieran accepted the compliment, “I guess, I ain’t ever tellin’ secrets, even when I’m not asked, I keep ‘em. Keep all I sees up here.” He tapped his temple. Arthur shifted, paranoia whispering in his ear for a second. “Is one of these tents for me?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah sure.” Arthur helped him up off the ground, “We’re gonna take watch, you get some rest.”

Kieran staggered into the canvas and soon fell into a deep slumber, snores rumbling through the evening air.

Charles and Arthur kicked out the fire, quashing the flames with dirt. They sat and Arthur reached for the packet he’d kept from the lake pass. He passed one to Charles and lit it, then held it in front of himself and blew the smoke out, “Here’s to you Sean, hope you’re not causin’ too much trouble up there, they can kick you out ya’ know.”

“To sean.” Charles copied him.

Charles listened to stories about the young irishman and they both wondered if Sadie was alright. It was the early hours when they both turned in, no O’ Driscolls would be after them now and there wasn’t anything more dangerous then a coyote lurking in the darkness.

Arthur crouched to get into his tent, looking back to Charles, “You wanna come in?”

“That’s a dumb question.”

Charles followed him in, they lay together, Arthur spooning Charles with an arm wrapped around his waist. He pressed a kiss just behind his ear and they drifted off together, listening to the peaceful huffing of horses and Kieran’s rumbling snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a really cute interaction between Mary-Beth and Kieran the other day while I was stalking her.
> 
> (Which btw I was doing to find out if she was the Princess! Nothing weird)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Racial slur in this chapter

The heartlands woke slowly to the mist over the hills, leaving dew drops on the long grass as the creatures of the night returned to their borrows and nests, the pronghorns and whitetails setting out for the day to graze.

Arthur woke to the singing of birds, his eyes flickering open, watching a beetle traverse the canvas wall of the tent. He turned over to see Charles, face buried in a bundled up blanket, harsh features relaxed into something far softer.

Arthur edged closer and stroked the long, black hairs off Charles face and tucking it behind his ear, his thumb brushing over the slightly stubbled cheek. Deep brown eyes fluttered open and a soft smile completed the morning. 

“Howdy.” Arthur muttered quietly.

“You woke before me?” Charles stretched his arms up and scooted closer to his lover.

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Very true.”

Arthur stroked Charles side from under his shirt, his fingers teasing at his waistline. Letting his eyes close again as they fell into their own world, kissing and holding each other. Arthur rested his leg over Charles’s and bit gently at his lip as the younger man pulled him closer with a firm grip on his thigh.

“Hey! How you doin’?” Sadie’s voice rang from outside the tent, getting louder as she walked closer. The two men sat up, Arthur rubbing his face in his hands. Frowning at Charles who’s mouth was opened in confusion before Kieran coughed from outside.

“I’ve been better Mrs Adler.”

Arthur grabbed Charles’ arm and looked to him worriedly, but was settled by the small head-shake he got in reply. The older man crawling through the flaps.

“They still asleep?” Sadie whispered to Kieran, turning her head as she saw her friend. “Hey, how’s your shoulder? Elodie said she was sorry.”

“S’nothin’, did she get off okay?” He shook his jacket out and sat by the fire Kieran must of started.

“Yeah, she’s shaken but she’ll live. Some of her folks will get her stuff, an’ bury her husband.”

Charles joined them, “I’m glad we had you with us, you helped her more then we could’ve.”

Sadie shrugged, “Least I can do.”

Kieran tossed a piece of wood onto the flames, wincing slightly as he rested a hand on his bruised chest.

“You should of let us make the fire.” Charles scolded him, he meant well but didn’t understand when people didn’t look after themselves.

“Y’alls were asleep so I thought I’d fix it, I thought maybe one of you’s was keepin’ lookout and so I waited a while.”

Arthur fiddled with the thread on his jeans, the small hole he found a few days ago, slowly growing enough to need a patch. “Figured they weren’t comin’ in the dark, they was always lazy bastards.”

Sadie cocked an eyebrow, “Could’a’ come this mornin’, been light a few hours.

Arthur tried to discern her expression, confused at why she was teasing him, “Well it’s lucky they didn’t then.”

Charles looked between them both and sighed, pulling a tin of beans from his bag, “We should get back to camp.”

Sadie balked, “He’s probably going ballistic, they’re probably all going mad, Pearson can only cook somethin’ half decent when one of ya’s catch a good hunt.”

Kieran looked nervous, unsure of what he’d be returning to. They ate quickly and packed up the camp. Arthur tripping on the canvas of his tent as he collapsed the poles, Charles laughing at him and catching him.

Sadie watched them as she tightened Bob’s girth, they seemed childlike, teasing each other and joyful. She wasn’t sure she had seen either of them like that before. Just happy. Making Kieran sit and rest, the determined woman helped sort most their stuff, Charles and Arthur being only somewhat helpful. She kind of expected it from the older man but Charles was usually the most organised person in camp, doing most of the leg work alongside Ms Grimshaw when they had to relocate.

Kieran let Sadie give him a leg up onto Branwen, who seemed a lot more content now she was back under her rider. Gilly and Taima were sharing a groom, the dappled-chestnut mare nicking at the appaloosa to try and play, the older horse taking it in her stride. 

It was going to be long ride back, Charles readied his bow in case the opportunity arose to catch dinner for Pearson, an attempt at making a peace offering in the event of Dutch reacting badly.

Sadie sang songs for most of the journey, Kieran laughing at the dirtier ones, Arthur and Charles getting lost in conversation with each other.

It was late afternoon, early evening when the horses plodded up the long path to Shady Belle, Lenny warning them about the bad atmosphere they were walking into.

“Arthur Morgan!” Dutch’s voice vibrating through him, Micah following him like a bad smell as he stormed toward him. “I had a PLAN! I do not have time to be wondering where the hell my men are?”

Micah sneered at him, turning to Kieran who was just visible from behind Charles and Arthur.

“Where’ve you been O’ Driscoll? I’ve missed your greasy face snillevin’ about the place. Eatin’ and drinkin’ what’s not owed to you.”

Sadie cut across and stood nose-to-nose with Micah, “He was kidnapped, or did you already know?!” Spitting in his face as she spoke.

Micah haunched his shoulders and pushed against her, “What’chou’ insinuatin’ little girl? The way I sees it, you lot keep disappearin’ all the time, no one knowin’ where you goin’ or how long for...I think if someone’s snitchin’ it’s you lot. Especially the savage, got those shifty eyes.”

“Micah,” Dutch hushed him. “I had an arrangement with Bronte, Arthur, now we’re late for that. Now is not the time to be heroes.”

The others were tuning into the conversation gathering slowly and watching as Dutch and Micah stood against Arthur, Charles, Sadie and Kieran.

“You ain’t gonna have no men left if we don’t go back for ‘em.” Arthur reasoned.

Micah scoffed, “He ain’t one of us, jus’ some traitor to his old gang, no loss there.”

Dutch nodded and looked directly at the man he raised, “In a manner of speaking, Kieran isn’t a member of this gang, in this great war there will be casualties.”

Arthur clenched his jaw, hands on his hip as he turned his head to look up from his boots to Dutch, “That the excuse you told yourself when you didn’t come for me. Colm was so convinced of your loyalty, your love for us that he believed you would risk your life to come for me. He weren’t the only one.”

The two men baiting each other and getting frustrated, a vein throbbing in Dutch’s neck as his fists clenched, “You are all nothing without me! You oughta’ remember yourself Morgan, I made you!”

“That’s the problem Dutch, you think we’re all toys, this is life you fool and we’ve got a responsibility to these people.”

“What did you just call me?!”

Micah smiled wickedly, revelling in the confrontation, throwing looks from behind his master.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Hosea thundered toward them all, getting in front of Arthur. “This is nonsense, you go and cool off.” He waved the outlaw away and turned to his old friend, “A word please.”

 

Arthur kicked the a crate from underneath the table, growling as he put his boot through the wood, trying to shake it off but getting angrier as it stuck. Charles clasped a strong hand on his back and turned him around, dropping to help yank his foot out.

Kieran hovering nearby, feeling unwanted before the girls ran to him, Tilly calling his name and embracing him. Karen raising a beer at him and Mary-Beth brushing his hair away to look at the gash above his eye where he’d been pistol-whipped.

“What happened?” Tilly question, placing each hand on either arm, looking him up and down and hugging him tightly again.

“They came for me, O’ Driscolls.”

Karen’s eyebrows jumped, “Shit, these idiots come rescue you?” Jerking her head toward the two men battling a small wooden box and Sadie who stood shaking her head at them.

“If they didn’t then I wouldn’t of made it out alive.” Kieran looking desperately at Mary-Beth, who looked away, catching Arthur in the corner of her eye.

“He’s a good- I mean They’re all good, we’re lucky to have them looking after us.” She turned back to Kieran and offered him a sympathetic smile.

“I missed you Mary.”

Tilly let go of his arms, straightening out the apron over her skirt, scratching at a small stain before looking up and smiling.

 

“Just lift-Arthur, just lift your foot.” Charles directed Arthur as he managed to pull a piece of wood off to remove the large boot.

“Sorry, it ain’t right Charles.”

“I know, it’s hardly the right size or colour.” He joked looking at the discarded crate.

“Charles.”

“I know, Arthur.”

Sadie paced beside them, “I’m not a member of this gang, not by Dutch’s standards, so what does that mean for me. Could he just decide to drop us?”

Arthur looked to her as he slumped on another seat, a hand rubbing across his face. “I don’t know Sadie, that’s not the man I know. It’s that fuckin’ Micah!” He shouted again.

The man in question, swaggered past them, giving a brisk wave and a sardonic smile.

“We need a plan.” Charles said solemnly.

Arthur and Sadie looked at him with eyebrows raised slightly.

Charles kept his expression serious, “We need a plan, we kill Micah.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - Some childhood trauma (seeing things of an adult nature, nothing violent.)

“You serious?” Sadie’s voice dropping. She hated Micah, really hated him, but planning to kill someone was very different. She’d shot at the Lemoyne Raiders, O’ Driscolls and a few others who’d tried to kill her. A sickening feeling bubbled in her stomach, not sure if it was in her, it would be so easy to just shoot him off guard and yet no one did.

Arthur could see it in her, the guilt, the compassion that she didn’t want to have. A battle between the decent person inside and the anger that compelled you to give someone what they deserve.

“Deadly.” Charles replied bluntly. He looked around at the others milling about none-the-wiser to their conversation. “It won’t be long before we either get caught or killed.”

“Or both.” Arthur added.

Sadie bit her lip and concentrated on her boots, she understood all of this, she knew she could kill Colm O’ Driscoll without blinking. But then he’d killed Jake.

“How we goin’ ta’ do it?” Spoken without looking up from her feet.

“Not we,” Arthur looked at her, waiting to catch her eyes. “This ain’t you.”

Turning her head she threw a frown at him, “Why not? I’ve proved I can.”

“You kill when you have to, you haven’t ever done it just because you can, you haven’t ever lost count of all the men.” He crossed his arms, wanting to protect her from what he’d become. Giving her an out when he’d had no other choice.

“How are we going to do it.” Sadie’s voice was stern as she challenged him.

“This bickering won’t get us anywhere.” Charles intervened. “Doesn’t really matter who does it or who’s there. It should be away from Dutch, possibly even Hosea. The less people the better, we want the man dead, not a bloodbath.”

“Well you might not...” Sadie shrugged.

“Could just throw his body out anywhere near Lagras, no one would look twice at a corpse out there.”

“What would we tell Dutch, the others?” She twisted a strand of her hair between her fingers.

Arthur shifted, his back leaning against the table with arms crossed, legs stretched out one resting on the other, “Don’t gotta’ say nothin’, sometimes people don’t come home. A ‘casualty of war’.”

 

Arthur had decided on an early night, he slept better next to Charles then he would’ve without him, but sleeping rough was just that – rough.

Aching joints and sore muscles rejoiced as he lowered his body onto the squeaky cot. Letting himself melt into the mattress, the familiar lumps shaped just so to his body, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

“Arthur.” A soft knock and Hosea’s voice. He contemplated ignoring him and faking a snore, but the handle clicked as the older man stepped into the room. For a polite man he had no respect for boundaries if it didn’t suit him, sitting himself down on the bed beside Arthur, resting a hand on Arthur’s leg.

“I see it too son, it wasn’t going to be long before someone challenged him. I’m afraid I’m not able to be that man, I have never been that man and now it’s getting too late. You have to be careful, you push it too far and you might find yourself alone, you aren’t going to be much help then.”

Arthur looked up at the ceiling, “What do I do, I love him Hosea, he’s family. But they all are, little jackie, the girls. Even that little racoon Marston. Someone’s gotta’ protect ‘em.”

“Dutch is right about the money, we do need to acquire funds to leave this miserable swamp. He has a good lead, so he tells me, give it time for us to leave here and then we can talk about this properly.”

“I don’t know if we have that sorta’ time, he said that this house would be a couple’a’ days till we move on, we’re still here Hosea. Been a week almost, Pinkerton’s ain’t long from closin’ in, O’ Driscolls are snatchin’ people next to camp. Hell, a little boy was stolen from under our noses!”

The conman, looked down, in denial about all the recent issues. “Just, don’t push yourself out Arthur, don’t do anything stupid either.” He patted Arthur’s leg and stood up and left, closing the door and walking across the hallway to his own room.

Arthur lay, staring at the ceiling, no longer feeling as relaxed as he had been in that moment. Damn Hosea, complicating things and confusing things in his head. He didn’t see why he should wait, to round the others up and offer them something else, something permanent. Away from all this crap, maybe a homestead they could all take care of, out West and away from all of this law and change.

He wondered who the next victim would be to Dutch’s mind breaking. Would it be Abigail, leaving Jack without a mother, would it be Tilly, the spirited young woman with such a congenial heart. Would it be Charles, trying to protect the others, trying to protect him.

The lumps of the bed feeling uncomfortable, the knackered springs digging into him at all angles. The blanket suddenly feeling itchy as he tossed and turned. 

 

“Arthur,” Molly’s sharp voice waking him suddenly. His not wanting to open, squinting at the pale light teeming through his window, it hadn’t felt like he’d slept at all.

“What is it?” Hoping it wasn’t some mundane bullshit that had Miss O’ Shea waking him abruptly.

“Dutch wants tae’ talk to ya’, ssometin’ abou’ a robbery.” She walked away before Arthur could ask any questions.

“Goddamnit.” He swung his legs onto the hard floor, his bare feet hot against the cold wooden slats. He pulled his socks and boots on and sniffed at his armpit, regretting his decision not to undress for bed. Strapping on his bandolier and buckling on his gunbelt. Slotting his pistols into their places, a quick hand checking that his knife was sheathed, he looked at the reflection of the murderer in the mirror. He felt shame but then didn’t care at the same time, this was who he was, what he was before was weak. Struggling to survive, slowly starving to death, vulnerable and yet lucky to have got where he had with few scars.

The hungry little boy looked back at him, frightened, wishing his parents were there. His mother. Dutch and Hosea rescuing from the other boys on the street, the older ones beating him and stealing his food, the older men trying to persuade him into worse. He shuddered as he remembered looking for his father in a run down house, people strung out on morphine and other drugs, others blackout drunk. His old man slumped in a corner, damp piss staining his trousers, the small change that came from the money supposed to pay their keep was scattered by his torn shoes.

A large fat man walked past Arthur, looking down at him, wearing a stained white vest. His hairy belly escaping from the flimsy material as he grunted at the child, two yellow teeth were all that was visible between his lips. The young boy flinched away hurrying to his father for protection, wide eyes scanning the room of unconscious bodies, turning and seeing people through the doorway opposite where he stood. A Woman on all fours looking disinterested as a man rocked behind her, his legs were bare and her skirts were bunched up around her waist. A red candle flickering on the bedside table, Arthur felt his stomach lurch, not sure what he was watching. 

“H-Hello?” He called, his voice panicked, looking back at his father who hadn’t moved. The woman looked up and smiled at him, the man pushing himself off her, walking swiftly at Arthur. Naked and hairy, the boy swallowed worriedly as the man stopped just short of the door, slamming it hard and cursing at him.

“C’mon Arthur! Don’ take tha’ piss.” Molly shouted.

Arthur looked back at the mirror, just him, as he was. Getting older and much stronger, but still frightened.

 

Dutch took him and Lenny, some great tip from the very man who’d held Jack prisoner, spaghetti or not. Lenny seemed delighted to of been singled out with Arthur, seeing it as some honour. 

“Here we are.” Dutch said proudly, looking at the trolley station in south Saint Denis. 

“We goin’ somewhere?” Arthur said resting a hand on his hip, the other one hung down by his leg.

“What’s the plan here boss?” Lenny wagged excitedly like a puppy.

Dutch looked between them, eyes resting on the enthusiastic buzzing of the young man, “My dear Mr Summers, why we are going to rob this place, the payout we need to go far away from here. This is it boys, this could be just what we need.”

“We sure about this Dutch? Doesn’t seem the type’a’ place to be keepin’ big sums of money.” He looked around at the large industrial buildings, the factories, filthy men filling the streets like ants from a nest.

“Have some faith in me Arthur, you’ll see son.” He pulled his scarf up over his face, getting his bag ready, looking to the others to check they’d done the same. Raising his eyebrows playfully before walking briskly toward the entrance.

Guns cocked, the burst in, pistols in the air demanding everyone on the ground. Women cowering behind their bonnets, shopping baskets dropping and cans rolling out across the floor. The men flinching away from the metal, some instinctively pulling out their wallets, hands raised in protest. The clerk trembled behind the desk as Dutch accosted him, calling Arthur into the little cubby.

“Open the damn safe.” Arthur snarled, pressing the butt of the gun hard against his temple. The man’s hands trembling so violently he struggled with the dial.

“What are we waiting for Arthur?!” Dutch shouted at him, peering through the glass of the station doors.

“I’m tryin’ here Dutch, for chirst sake!” He shoved the clerk aside, “What’s the code?!”

The man stuttered as awfully as his hands were shaking. Arthur cracked the gun against his head, sending the terrified man onto the floor.

“Crap.” He started on the dial, moving it slowly as he caught the first click.

“Everything okay in there?” Lenny shouted, pointing his gun to hold the customers still inside the building.

Arthur losing focus as the man’s voice interrupted his progress.

“For fuck- just be quiet will ya’!”

A distant sound of shouting came from a distance just as Arthur unlocked the safe. His face dropped at the measly $24 that sat before him. Putting it in his pocket, letting his rage drive him toward Dutch, but stopping as he saw the blue blurs stood outside the frosted glass.

“...Just step outside and we can finish this over coffee...”

“Got any ideas?” Arthur growled at him. Dutch looked like a ghost, the colour drained from his face, mouth open in shock and horror. Turning his head as he heard the chink-chunk of the trolley grinding against the track as it travelled around the corner toward the station.

“No!”

“Have some goddamn faith!” Lenny, we move now!”

They burst through the door, the shouting and gunshots blurring as though they’d walked through the patterned windows. Arthur tailing behind, pulling himself onto the moving trolley.

“Does this go to Tahiti?” He joked, pulling his springfield rifle and taking spot at the back. Spinning and blasting through the glass at a horseback officer who’d gotten close.  
“What are we gonna’ do now?” Lenny called, panicked.

“Don’t’chou’ worry Summers, I’m sure Dutch has another great plan-”

“Now is not the tim-”

The trolley began to vibrate violently, jumping downward suddenly, the sound of metal scraping harshly on the road as they hurtled down the sloped street. Heading straight toward the large brick buildings at the bottom.

“Jump!” Dutch flung himself from the vehicle, Lenny following and Arthur taking a second, hesitating before leaping onto the road. His knee bending on impact, jeans tearing and flesh cutting as he rolled forcefully, the ground scraping at his body and his elbow thudding painfully.

Grimacing he scurried behind an empty, parked coach. They looked to each other and stood briefly to release a round of bullets at the few officers that were in the area and those that had managed to catch up. 

“The horses!” Dutch indicated to where they’d left them, ready for the quick escape, they were half a street away. They’d have to bolt for them. Dutch not wasting any time sprinted like a mad man, past the guns and through the pistol-fire.

Lenny looked at Arthur who jerked his head toward the horses. “Go! I’ll cover you.”

“But-”

“GET!” Arthur stood shooting both his pistols, Lenny scrambling at the dirt as he he pushed his legs hard to propel himself, yelling as a bullet caught his side. As he got close enough Arthur took a breath and ran, it felt like everything had slowed down, each foot stomping down and the muscle in his leg reverberating. Jumping away as he heard the metal singing through the air to tear at his body. Dutch and Lenny pushing their horses on, an officer seeing Arthur’s horse and running toward it pulling the pistol from his holster, pointing it wobbly as he got closer to Gilly.

Arthur shot at him, the frantic effort hitting the man in the stomach, giving him the chance to quickly hop onto her back. Not quite in the saddle and feet out the stirrups he slapped her into a gallop, the mare giving a shriek in panic as her legs stretched into a sprint. Eyes wide with terror.

Her hooves crashing on the cobbled street as he pulled her to the fringe of the city, the voices of the men in blue becoming ever distant, rounding a corner suddenly and attracting a whole other group of them into chase. Their horses galloping after him as Arthur dug his spurs into Gilly’s side.

“Go on girl!” He whipped the reigns at her flank, her speed and nimble footedness showing as she turned corners like a barrel-racer. Soon leaving behind any followers as they broke away into Lemoyne. Her breathing raspy as he slowed her down, the city a dark cloud on the horizon. Arthur panted, his legs trembling, thank fuck for that.


	32. Chapter 32

Arthur reached down to thank Gilly for her bravery, hand jerking away as he looked, horrified to see blood dripping from his fingers. She sported a red hole at the bottom of her neck, her leg and breast were crimson as blood continued out of the wound.

“Not you.” Arthur pleaded as he dismounted, pulling at her reigns toward a covering. Rummaging through his satchel he cursed as he hadn’t thought to stock up after rescuing Kieran. He rested his head against hers and stroked her cheek, daring to look at the other side of her neck, no exit wound. He cursed again.

Taking a moment to consider a plan, he decided to plug the wound and secure it, at least until he got back to camp. Apologising, he climbed back on top of her, feeling the tremble of her weak body as the blood-loss started to take it’s toll.

“It’s okay girl, we’re gonna get’chou’ back home. You just gotta’ be strong now.” He pushed her into a canter, the harsh pants keeping Arthur cautious, making sure he was prepared to jump off before she collapsed on him. He felt angry, they’d all nearly died for $24 and whatever trinkets they picked off the customers at the station. Gilly still could die and for nothing.

The camp were his family and his horses were his friends. He’d already lost Boadicea and the horse he took from Colter, gone before he could even name him, there’d been so much work put into Gilly that he couldn’t see her go to. Just death and failure all the time.

The mare’s head hang low as they arrived at Shady Belle, her breathing laboured and the cold sweat on her skin glistened as she kept on through the shock.

Charles had been looking out for him, watching the weary pair stumble into camp, both covered in dark stains.

“Arthur what- Gilly? Are you hurt?” A soft hand resting on the horses muzzle as he looked into her sad eyes.

“Nothin’ that can be healed by any ‘o’ your magic potions.” The older man sniffed as he hid his face under the brim of his hat.

“We need to get the slug out of her neck.” Charles led her to Arthur’s hitch. “Tie her legs to the post, this is going to hurt.”

Uncle, Bill and Javier watched in confusion as the two men secured the horse. Charles running to the medical supplies and bringing back gauze and a long, thin pair of tongs.

“You got any drugs for her?”

“I got somethin’!” Kieran piped up, stepping toward them with a bottle and syringe. He loaded it and injected it by the gunshot, Gilly throwing her head forcefully, the reigns holding her tight to the wood.

“Seems a lotta’ hassle, nothin’ a pistol can’t fix?” Bill interrupted.

Arthur looked to Charles, gritting his teeth and holding Gilly firmly by the bridle. “Do it.”

Charles pressed the tongs deep into the mares neck, making a disgusting squelching noise as more blood sprayed from around the tool. An unearthly shriek protested and a violent effort was made to flee. The movement didn’t unsettle Charles and Kieran took the other side of the beast, cooing and hushing, more for Arthur’s sake then anything else.

The gristling sound of metal investigating flesh made them all wince, until Charles exclaimed, finding the bullet and pulling it out. More and more blood, the mares efforts to escape were relinquished as she gave up, the pain still present from the look in her white eyes.

Kieran did a better job of what Arthur had attempted to do earlier, binding the wound wadding it properly.

“She might not make it,” He said looking up at the sad blue eyes.

“C’mon Arthur, you need to clean up.” Charles said, placing a hand on his bicep and pulling at him gently, “What happened out there anyway? Dutch and Lenny came back, Dutch started throwing stuff around and shouting, something about a trap?”

Arthur let himself be led toward the wagons and tables, “It was all some set up. I don’t know what fool idea Dutch had in his head, but we made it out with nothin’ but money for a decent pair of trousers, fuck all else. Then blue-jackets started turnin’ up, a whole number of ‘em, we was walkin’ into a trap the second we stepped foot in Saint Denis.”

“Who?” Charles looked to him, pushing him down onto a crate, they’d found another to replace the one he’d destroyed.

“My guess is that Angelo Bronte, he didn’t think kindly on us and even less on Dutch. I think a man like that watchin’ a man like Dutch, thinkin’ he’s the same, must’ve been insultin’. Or maybe it was just for fun, I don’t know but I do know we’re fucked now.”

Arthur put his face in his hands and took a moment, “The Pinkertons are gonna be sniffin’ all round Lemoyne, there’s more of ‘em then us and they’re comin’ in on all sides now. We’re gonna die here, all of us, either starvin’ to death or riddled with bullets.” 

He dropped his head in his hands again, exhaling deeply, eyes tight shut to try and block all the crap out. Charles pulled his seat closer, placing a hand on his back and rubbing a small circle in between his shoulder blades. For all they said Arthur was dumb, he seemed to be the only one aware of what was coming.

Arthur mumbled through his fingers, eyes still shut, “What kinda’ man am I, I knew this was happenin’, Hosea tellin’ me to give Dutch a try...If I’d stepped in, we might of fallen apart but at least we’d still have a chance on gettin’ outta’ here.”

“I don’t see how that is your fault.” Charles reasoned. “Perhaps we can still get the others out? Pinkerton’s will know about you, Dutch, Hosea, maybe even John and a couple of the others but the women and Jack, they’re not going to notice them travelling past them.”

Arthur looked up, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, Charles’s eyebrows twitched at the small damp-spot he saw on the back of his glove.

 

“Has anyone seen- Ah! Arthur!” Dutch’s voice sounding like a foghorn, he seemed jovial but twitchy, bearing down on the outlaw as he slapped a hand to his back. Arthur had been sharing conversation with Tilly and Uncle as they’d eaten together, Charles studying him from the corner of his eye, trying to think up a plan as he fletched arrows on the jetty.

“What is it Dutch.” Arthur grunted, not looking up from the table. “If it’s another one of your plans to take us away from here with just one small payout then you can shove it up you-”

“Listen here boy!” Dutch shouted pulling Arthur up from his seat by the collar of his shirt, ripping it from the force of his grip. The others came to watch, Uncle slipping from the others into the house.

“I ain’t no boy Dutch!” Arthur stood and squared his shoulders, he was only a few years younger then the other man but he was a far more experienced fighter and had all the motivation he needed behind him. “I haven’t been a boy for some time now and I think it’s about time you realised that.”

He stepped closer to him, chests puffed and close to brushing, the posturing reminded Charles of the bucks they’d seen rutting a few weeks back. Sadie approached him, a desperate look on her face, he sighed and followed her toward the rest of the gang.

Dutch spat at the ground by Arthur’s feet, “You challenging me, son?” Micah suddenly hurrying out the house eagerly rushing to his master’s side, but being yanked back suddenly by the his jacket as Hosea pushed past him. Micah frowning for a moment before continuing only to be pushed again as Uncle barged past, flashing an innocent smile in his direction.

“Enough! I will not stop this again!” Hosea shouted at them.

“Ain’t nothin’ to stop old man.” Arthur said sarcastically, not taking his eyes off Dutch.

“Listen to your Daddy cowpoke.” Micah taunted. 

“If Arthur wants a fight, a fight he’ll get.” Dutch’s voice low and sullen.

Hosea threw his hands up in the air, “Fine, kill each other, we’ll all sit by and watch.” He stormed off, dodging Uncle who gave him a pleading look as he passed.

The two men stared at each other hard before Arthur turned away, shaking his head, “It ain’t worth it. Ain’t worth it at all.” He steered toward the edge of camp when Dutch called after him.

“I have a job.” Smiling as he watched the young outlaw stop, his back to him but head pricked to listen. “A big one, the last one. No tips, just a plan. Then we are gone, I swear it this time Arthur, we are gone. You just need to trus-”

“Trust you?” Arthur turned back, “You want me to trust you? You want me to follow you to wherever the hell you wanna’ take us, put all of our lives on the line, for what this time? Some old jewellery or perhaps a couple’a’ dollars?!” He yelled.

“Watch your tongue cowpoke.” Micah sneered.

“Shut your mouth.” Charles threatened.

Ms Grimshaw cocked a rifle, lock and loading it and stepping into the argument, “Arthur.”

“Get out of it Susan, jus’ mind your own business for once.”

Bill stepped forward and pushed a hand into Arthur’s shoulder, “Don’t talk to her like that!”

Arthur laughed and flicked his eyes from his shoulder to the owner of the hand that shoved him. “You wanna get involved too Williamson?”

“Woah hold up what’s the point in us all rowing?” Karen questioned.

“No one needs your opinion, whore.” Javier cut her off.

“The fuck you just call me?”

Dutch fired his pistol three times in the air, a fluster of cranes and egrets scattered into the sky from the tall trees around Shady Belle.

“Tomorrow we rob the bank in Saint Denis, you either come with us,” He directed this to them all, looking across at the gang, “Or you leave now. Take some food and leave, no one will stop you.”

A scramble of footsteps attracted their gaze to Strauss, who upon hearing the news was frantically shoving items of food and papers into his suitcase, before hurriedly snapping it shut. Stopping in front of them, mouth open as he paused before he ran to the camp entrance, clambering up onto one of the spare horses and bolting down the path and out of their lives forever.

“Anyone else?” Dutch asked smugly. They all glanced between themselves. “Good, I’m going to need all the men ready in the morning, Ms Grimshaw-”

“Yes?”

“You gather the women and pack us up, there’ll no time when we get back with the money. And as for you...” Dutch looked to Arthur who flicked his head defiantly. “I expect better from you, we will deal with this tomorrow.” With that he marched away to the house, silencing Molly who stood watching from the doorway.

Javier turned on Arthur and spat to the side of him, “You’ve got no loyalty cabron.”

The others, sure they’d seen the end of the show, pootled off to what they’d been doing beforehand. Charles and Sadie standing firmly behind Arthur, as the group dispersed, Uncle remained. His face still pleading as he stared desperately at the young outlaw.  
“You tried.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some canon spoilers. Be warned.

The next morning the camp was all but packed up, the horses ready with their halters loosely tacked on, grazing next to the wagons. Arthur had slept outside last night as Ms Grimshaw went about tidying up, when he woke he saw Dutch, Hosea and Abigail in conversation.

Arthur groaned as he forced himself up, the others all seemed to of gotten up before him, even Uncle, who carried a rifle over his shoulder. As he approached the discussion, Hosea and Dutch clasped each other in a hug before Hosea helped Abigail up onto a cart, following her up shortly after. He tipped his hat at Arthur as he clicked the horses on and Abigail blew a kiss to Jack before turning away.

“Where are they goin’ Dutch?”

“Our dear old, friend Hosea is just running an errand.”

“Mmhm.”

“Susan! We’re heading out, if there’s any trouble you know what to do. That goes for you too Uncle, though I’m sure you girls know how to handle yourselves.”

“Let me come Dutch!” Sadie called, stepping between the gang members to get in front of him, “I can help, I’m a good shot!”

Arthur clenched his fist, looking at Charles who was tending to Gilly with Kieran, he held his breath. Hoping that Dutch would see the insanity of bringing her along. She would be an asset, but she’d be needed here to protect the others.

“No Mrs Adler I admire your diligence, I know others could take note from your efforts and desire to contribute to this family.” Dutch glanced at Arthur, “But this is no folly for the fairer sex.”

Sadie scoffed, turning on her heel and sauntering away. Arthur sighed with relief.

“Arthur, you can take Ennis, seeing as Mr MacGuire is no longer in need of a horse.”

 

They were in the mansion district of Saint Denis, Dutch and Hosea’s plan was in action, the men all dressed finely so as not to draw attention. When Arthur dismounted he wandered next to Charles, they hadn’t had an opportunity to be close since the brief moment they shared in the tent in the Heartlands a few days ago.

“Now it’s your turn to play dress-up.” Arthur smirked, talking low as the others chit-chatted through the busy streets.

Charles flicked his deep, brown eyes up at his, a man of few words but by God were his expressions always piercing. “You think it looks good?”

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, “Yeah, it’s alright.” He kept his eyes ahead for a moment before turning his gaze to Charles, nudging him slightly with his shoulder, “I’m jus’ messin’ with ya’, Charles, you look suave.”

Charles shook his head playfully, “You’re somethin’ else Mr Morgan.” He grinned, stopping as Dutch held up a hand.

“That he is,” John interrupted, catching the end of their conversation.

The bank was a very, tall building. It reminded Arthur of a cigarette card he’d found, an ancient building with columns just the same as this one, some Greek or Roman place. All their faces slowly moved up as they scanned the bank, bringing their heads back down to note the law surrounding it. Of course this wasn’t Valentine or Rhodes, not some dingy little brick house pretending to be a secure building, this was a big city bank with big city money.

“What’s the plan Dutch” Javier questioned, he had faith in their leader but even he could see the polarised ratio between the Van Der Linde Gang and the Lemoyne Blue-Jackets.

Bill spat the barley he was chewing and reached for his gun, “We gonna’ take ‘em out?” Charles batted his hand away before he could pull out the revolver.

“Don’t be a fool.”

Bill looked imploringly at Dutch who shrugged, “He’s right, I already forsaw this kind of detail on the doors, that is why I sent out our very own Mr Matthews to help-”

A large boom snapped their heads round to the South-East, a pillow of black smoke and debris filling the sky in the distance. The law looked amongst themselves before scurrying away to investigate.

“Christ!” John stepped back reflexively.

“Now’s our chance boys!” Dutch and the others hurried toward the doors, guns held low as they poured in through the doors, masks covering their faces and weapons pointing harshly around the lobby.

“This, my dear folks, is a robbery. If you could place all of your valuables and cash into the bags my friends here are holding, we will not kill you.”

Javier, Lenny, John and Bill went about gathering possessions, Charles and Micah stood watch while Arthur and Dutch targeted the teller. Arthur grabbing him and throwing him at the safe, eager to get it over and done with, “I-I don’t know the code!” He cried holding his arms up.

“Christ sake man!” He punched him hard across the face. The man yelped and clasped a hand to his face, nose broken and filling with blood.

“Alright, alright!” He cowered under Arthur’s gun and began to unlock it, Dutch looked at him and they both tapped their boots, looking around frantically. Adrenaline coursed through Arthur, he felt sick and excited at the same time, his whole body fizzing with the high. 

“This is takin’ to Goddamn long! Get outta’ the way!” He shoved the man aside and pressed an ear to the cold metal. Click, click, click. The handle clunked and Arthur wrenched it open, a sharp intake of breath as he was glad to see the stacks of gold, cash and bonds, stuffing them into the large sack and grinning at Dutch.

“I told you son!” Dutch shouted with joy as he rounded them all up toward the windows. Stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of a small army gathered in wait.

“Fuck me.” Bill’s jaw dropped.

Charles cursed, he’d lost focus and had been watching Arthur, trying to see for himself if there was a decent payout. He glared at Micah who didn’t seem half as worried.

“Mr Van Der Linde, if you step out now we will be more lenient on your men, I’m willing to offer them life imprisonment in return for your surrender. This is the last time I offer you any mercy.”

Dutch stomped his foot down and waved his arms in frustration before turning to shout back through the window, they all gasped as Agent Milton thrust Hosea forward, John throwing himself at the window. Desperately trying to locate Abigail.

“No no no.” Arthur moaned, looking to Dutch.

“Time’s running out Dutch.” Milton goaded again.

Dutch looked at the floor, sighing heavily before answering, “Now Mr Milton if we could just sit down and come to a-”

The shot tore through Arthur’s heart as he watched Hosea fall to the ground, writhing in agony and clutching at his chest. Enough was enough.

"Deals off the table!."

“Mother fucker.” Arthur pulled his shotgun and blasted it out into the Pinkertons.

“Light ‘em up boys!” A lawman shouted and an eruption of gunfire exploded out in the street.

They all hid behind the windows and doorways, shooting aimlessly out to try and protect themselves.

“We’re not going to make it!” Lenny shouted amongst the ruckus, a bullet singing past him and planting itself into the skull of a cowering hostage. The bank was filled with screaming as metal tore through the windows and buried itself in the main desk, the walls and the helpless customers inside.

“You got any dynamite Arthur?” Dutch yelled above the noise.

Arthur was slumped against the wall, gun in his hand laying limp down by his leg, “Hosea...”

A sharp slap across his face, “Get it together man. Dynamite now!” Arthur snapped out of it and grabbed the stick he had in his satchel moving low across the room so as not to get blown up by a stray bullet.

He placed it quickly against the wall toward the back of the bank, lighting it and running toward the lobby-desk, hurtling over it and landing with a crash just as large hole blew into the wall. Plaster dust and chunks of rubble revealed to a ladder leading to the roof.

“Cover me Arthur!” Dutch said, grabbing a rifle and throwing it dangerously at him. Arthur glanced worriedly at Charles who was busy firing from behind an alcove. 

Arthur threw it over his shoulder as he made quick work of the iron rungs, hauling himself up as fast as he could, suddenly exposed a bullet caught his arm. Tearing through his jacket and ripping the flesh open, he dropped down behind the roof-wall and loaded the rifle, his heart thumping fast making his fingers fiddle frantically. He winced as he cocked the gun, the wound on his arm superficial but throbbing with pain nonetheless. Lenny popped up behind him, ducking quicker then he had.

A sudden rattling of metal tore through the air as Arthur peeked over the wall. A large gatling gun was pummelling out bullets, obliterating the lower floor of the bank. Charles. Arthur thrust a hand into his bag for another stick of dynamite. Shit! Nothing but rum, he looked at Lenny before pulling off his bandana, stuffing the black material into the top of the bottle.

“I’ve never asked you for nothin’ God, but jus’ this once-” He muttered as he lit the end of the material with a match and standing suddenly, aiming and throwing it hard down at the weapon. As it exploded Arthur yelled, shielding his back as he fell down again, hot shrapnel stabbing into his back. He pulled off his jacket, taking most of the metal with it, looking to Lenny again as rapid gunfire started to break into the short wall they hid behind.

“We gotta move Arthur!” He shouted.

“We can’t they’ll kill us!” 

“I ain’t never been hit yet and I don-” Lenny stood in a crouch starting to scurry along the roof when a bullet cut straight through his neck, killing him instantly just as Dutch crawled up over the ladder.

“Leave him Arthur, we have to go now!” 

They hurried across the roofs, Arthur wasn’t even sure if they were whole, he didn’t look back. They cleared a couple of buildings before coming upon a boarded up window, Bill kicking straight through it as they all climbed through. Arthur stood waiting until Charles clambered in last.

Charles grasped his shoulder and dug his fingers in deep, his head low as he panted heavily. It seemed he’d been feeling the same.

“Where’s John?” Javier finally said.

They all looked around, they weren't all there, no Lenny, no Hosea and now no John.

“I didn’t see his bitch outside with Hosea, seemed odd to me.” Micah sneered.

Arthur growled at him, grabbing him by his shirt, “What are you sayin’?!” Spitting into his face as he snarled.

Micah shrugged out of the hold, “Jus’ sayin’ how it’s mighty queer how Hosea gets caught an’ she doesn’t and now John’s not here either. Pinkerton’s knew we was here, why else would they have jus’ known to bring their big, bastard gun?!” Think about it Morgan, really think, we was snitched on!”

“I’ve known them folks for years, it ain’t in them.” Bill interjected.

Dutch looked at Micah, Javier glancing at his expression before adding, “But he has gone missing before, we don’t know what happened in that time. It seems he came back and suddenly everyone is one step ahead of us.”

“You didn’t feel that way about him up at Colter.” Charles remarked.

Arthur gritted his teeth, “you might be right about a snitch, but I know this family, this family is loyal. If we gonna’ start talkin’ about when things started to fall apart let’s look at Blackwater! Seems ever since we took you on Mr Bell, we’ve had nothin’ but shit, every tip you’ve had has been a trap. All you are is a poison, and I ain’t havin’ it no more.”

“Arthur.” Dutch sounded, his voice deep and calm. “I can vouch for Micah in Blackwater, I have been under suspicion of John for a while, he has had that woman in his ear trying to get him out of all this. The bounty on me, on us, is enough to settle down on. What was stopping her from cutting a deal with that bastard Jim? You saw how she reacted after Jack was taken!”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Any women in her right mind would be like that, of course she wants John out, hell! I want John out. It ain’t good for little Jack, don’t mean he’s some traitor now. Think logically here Dutch! If Hosea was her-”

“Hosea is dead.” Dutch ushered Charles out of the chair he was slumped in, perching on it and lighting a cigar like a triumphant king claiming his thrown after battle.

“The leadership and responsibility falls to me now. Arthur you are my man, my right hand, but I need you with me on this.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, lighting a cigarette, “I am with you Dutch, I always am, that’s why we’re all here in this shithole. But John, I think he’s an arrogant little prick but he ain’t a snitch.”

“We’ll see son, we’ll see.”

The room fell quiet as they all let the events of the afternoon catch up with them, closing their eyes as they took a moment to mourn the lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Hosea bby.
> 
> and Lenny too, both were sweethearts and didn't deserve it.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long pause in posting, I have a toddler who went through some serious sleep issues (Is still in them now) and I had literally no time. When I did there wasn't enough focus to write with any quality. But thanks for the lovely comments! I'm so glad people are enjoying this and it really helped keep up the inspiration! So sorry to anyone who was following regularly!

Night came and the men began to stir into action as Dutch stood suddenly. He looked out the window and scratched his chin.

“We get a boat.”

The men looked up at him, his sharp features outlined by the moonlight creeping in through the window. 

“How you thinkin’ we gonna getta’ boat Dutch?” Arthur sneered. His back was sore from leaning against the brick wall of the abandoned house, watching Charles as he carved something into the wooden floor they sat on.

“We make a run for the docks, the search should of moved more widespread by now, we have a good chance-”

“Chance bein’ what I’m worried ‘bout.” Arthur stood and clicked his ankles. “They gotta’ be watchin’ the dock, those Pinkerton’s have been ahead of us each step, they’re smart Dutch.”

“He’s right,” Charles stood as the others began to get up too, “If they’ve searched most of the town they’ll know we’re still here. They’ll of made a blockade at all the exits, most probably the docks too.”

Micah stepped forward and tipped the brim of his hat up, he reeked of sweat, they all did, a perfume of anxiety and adrenaline. “Saint Denis is a big city they won’t of got reinforcements yet, we killed most of the blue jackets, that leaves the Pinkerton scum and what...a handful of policemen? I say we do it Dutch’s way, we don’t have much choice otherwise.”

Bill and Javier watched the conversation, Javier stepped toward Micah and Dutch, his vote unspoken but loud. Bill rubbed the back of his neck and nodded toward their leader, “They’re right Arthur, what else can we do?”

Arthur looked over at Charles, he shrugged but remained still, feet planting him firmly by his side. Another silent affirmation of loyalty.

“Ah shit.”

 

The sweat cooling on their backs chilled as they hit the evening air. Only in their suits, each carrying a bag stuffed with bonds and bills. They got to the packing warehouses when they saw the first group of police, scattered out and lazily plodding in regular paths, armed with large rifles hanging off their shoulders.

They managed to move single-file, there was no knowing if there would be a vessel to take them, but it seemed Arthur’s plea on the roof had worked. A large trade ship was all lit up and the crew could be seen milling around the shipping office.

So close they could almost smell the goods ready to be sent off to the rest of the world. Pinkertons came into view in a small group, bringing with them a few policemen. It would be a long shot to try and take them out and even then they’d bring every nearby blue-jacket. It would be a suicide mission. 

“We need to go now Dutch.” Micah pressed, Dutch was operating blindly but even he knew how pointless it would be to risk the run.

“Here take this,” Charles shrugged off his satchel, packed with money and goods from the hostages at the bank.

“Wait- wha- Charles?” Arthur whispered desperately as Charles creeped away from the group, hiding behind the large crates that littered the yard, turning and pressing a finger to his lips. Arthur felt his heart sink, there was no way that he would-

Charles sprinted at the group, pushing through them and scattering them apart.

“Why you little-” A Pinkerton spat, “Well after him!” The group hurried after Charles who was twisting and turning away, whooping loudly as he cleared the space between them with ease.

“That man is a true American hero.” Dutch nodded proudly, his comment made Arthur feel sick. The last thing he’d seen was the whip of dark hair disappearing behind a building, followed by a small horde of well-armed men.

“We go now!” Micah insisted and they all hurried past the crew who turned confused and accusatory as they rushed onto the ship. The sailors followed them and started yelling at them, Dutch tried to hush them when the captain of the ship appeared asking what the matter was. A quick exchange of money and they were cosying up below deck. 

Arthur had never travelled by ship before, he wasn’t a fan of the swaying, fishing was fine but his stomach balked at the prospect of a long journey. They didn’t even know where they were going, Dutch might of said but Arthur wasn’t focused. He hoped Charles was okay and the others. John and Abigail. He hoped at least if they had John that they’d keep him alive for ransom.

If Charles would make it to the others then they had a good chance of making it.

He lead back and let his eyes close slowly as Dutch rambled on about tropical islands and a mysterious fruit called a mango. The others were excitedly fuelling the conversation as sleep finally called to take him from his worry.

 

“Arthur! Arthur! C’mon son wake up!” Dutch rocked him into consciousness violently, voice laced with terror. His blurry eyes peeled back suddenly to reveal the panic-stricken face of his father.

“Get up!” We need to get off this boat!” Dutch screamed again. Arthur dropped his legs down, bare feet instantly splashing into water, nearly at his knees, he waded quickly clinging to the walls of the corridor as the ship jerked dramatically. Arthur wasn’t a man who easily felt fear but in this moment, in this moment his body was refusing to obey his brain, almost willing to stop and just let the salty water wash over him.

A firm grip pulling him forward helped to ease him from his heavy legs, Dutch splashing ahead, the others long gone. Another turbulent shudder and an avalanche of luggage barricaded the corridor.

“Dutch!”

“Arthur!”

“Go! Go on! Get out I’ll-…I’ll try another way.” He glanced through a gap between the boxes and suitcases but Dutch was already gone. He turned and forced himself back toward the flooding tunnel. He pushed through shoulder height water, ever aware of it rising and brushing his ears, the pressure around his hold body was immense. The force of the current and the movement of the ship trying to suck him backwards. He gasped for air despite his mouth being free.

Arthur cried out, high and desperate, wondering if he would die here alone and without Charles. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, something exploded a distance away and a glow of orange reflected across the water, a sliver of hope. Tears running down his cheeks, Arthur swam forward toward the light, the only thing guiding him through the dark corriidor that was now but a small space between water and the ceiling. 

Frightened hands bumped against a railing, light pouring from a the top of a staircase. Only a few steps exposed, the boat was leaning heavily on one side, everything mostly flooded at this point. Arthur pulled himself up the railing, arms trembling from the strain as he was able to pull his leg up to push up on an exposed step, his clothes were soaking and hung on him like thick chains. He bare feet skidded on the deck of the ship, the air filled with the screams of the men who were frantically trying the get to the life-boats.

Another explosion and the boat began to sink at a terrifying pace. Arthur spotted Dutch and the others, or so he thought, he waved at them and cried for them to save him. His hand dropping to his side suddenly as a large wave snuffed out the small light, snuffing out all hope. The men began to pour off the side of the ship into the black water below. Arthur cursed and took a running leap.

He tumbled in the water, unsure of which way was up, his breath desperately knocking at his lungs. The salt water stinging his eyes as he tried to make sense of this new dark environment. A faint glow caught his eye and he spread his arms and pushed his hands down, kicking manically as he repeated the motion, fighting against the waves he breached the surface. A deep rasping breath was choked by another harsh wave, knocking him under again, he scrambled back up. His arms were stiff and his whole body hurt. He tried to look about, catching the remains of the ship vanishing into the sea, what was left succumbing to flames. As though the elements were fighting over who would be victor.

He turned his back on the vessel and let the waves push him the direction he’d last seen Dutch’s boat, forcing his limbs to keep him afloat, a bit of wood from the lifeboat knocked into him and he grasped it, enough to lean his arms on and stay mostly above the water. Letting his arms rest, he sobbed and he dropped his head into the crook of his arm, salt tears falling into his mouth as seawater splashed his face, licking at his arms but not trying to take him anymore. The sea had claimed it’s prize, Arthur closed his eyes and weeped, letting the tide push him on.

 

Birds were singing loudly, Arthur noted as his consciousness began to wake slowly, chirping from different points around him. He felt warm and something was tickling his feet, no, washing them. He turned slowly and opened his eyes and saw the glittering coast, the gentle waves foaming over his legs, his clothes torn and a deep groove of sand where he’d been beached.

“If this is heaven, it’s shit.” He spat out the sand from when he’d been lead face-down. Half-expecting an answer, Arthur looked up at the sky, colourful birds zoomed overhead. A sudden dryness in his throat called his attention, nope definitely alive and with all the bullshit that follows. Where the fuck was this place?

Arthur pushed himself up, muscles sore and torn from the over-exertion of trying not to drown, he glanced down at the small bit of wood that must of carried him here. He dropped down and picked it up examining it in his hands for a moment.

“Thanks, I guess,” He said unceremoniously before nodded and hurtling it back into the sea. He looked to the noisy jungle and groaned, if there is lie there’s fresh water, he assured himself and set off. Trying to ignore how the hot sand burnt his feet.

He couldn’t ignore the burning for long and as he hobbled on blistered soles, the hot sun slowly roasting the skin over his nose and cheeks, he began to wilt. He thought for a moment he saw Charles bathing in the water, quick blink shooed him away, a ways ahead he saw his old man slumped against some rocks. Arthur shook his head, he really needed a drink.

A strong beacon of smoke called out to him over the face of some large rocks, scurrying on his raw feet, Arthur hurried toward the sign of life. His senses going, all he could hear was his heart beating as everything blurred away. He reached a hand out as some shapes moved toward him.

“Arthur!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually hated this scene because being in a sinking ship/submarine is one of the most terrifying things for me.  
> I also started playing RDR2 Online so if anyone bumps into me I'm Discessio and I won't shoot :)


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry for the wait, turns out my toddler's sleep issues were respiratory and the poor little soul had an asthma attack on Friday night so it's been a bit crazy at family HQ.

They’d been there for a few days, this hellish place, Guarma. All Arthur wanted was to go home, each mission had taken them further and further from what they knew and here they were. Somewhere far enough across the ocean that it felt he was on another planet entirely.

Conversations were drifting in and out of his ears all the time and he couldn’t actually remember the last time he listened to Dutch, really listen. The revolutionaries that had rescued them from the local military had been feeding them as much as possible and thankfully had provided weapons.

For all Arthur knew, John and Charles could be dead, hell all of them could be. Dutch was unstable, Micah becoming ever less subtle when trying to manipulate the man. Arthur didn’t give much credence to it, Bill was falling for it too and if he strayed he knew he’d have to die here. Dutch was his only key out of here and they needed to rescue Javier.

There was talk, for a short moment, about taking the boat while they could. Rescuing Javier was a risk, a risk Arthur was willing to take, not only was he family but he didn’t know if he’d escape here alive, he might as well do one last good thing with his life. All the doubts and worries stopped clanging around in his head making him come to his senses. An old woman, Gloria, had cautiously led them to Aguasdulces where Javier was being held. The woman knew it was dangerous and had demanded a rich payment for her risk, pushing Dutch at every turn through the caves for more money until he refused.

The little woman spat, all her viciousness summoned as she began to ramble in slur of Spanish, a small knife poised up in her wrinkled, veiny hands. Arthur rolled his eyes and raised his hands at her, knowing it would be simple enough to disarm the fragile woman. To his horror, Dutch had come to another conclusion, wrapping his hands firmly around her throat. His face reddened and his arms trembled at the strain as he squeezed as tightly as he could. Arthur stepped to him in shock but relented as the man barked a snarl at him.

He dropped her as quickly as he’d killed her, no remorse as he pushed her out the way of the ladder she’d stopped them at. Dutch spewed some nonsense about betrayal, a contradiction on his initial reason for killing her. Arthur tested him, this wasn’t the first time a woman had died at his hand for seemingly no particular reason.

There wasn’t time for the argument and the two men turned their focuses to rescuing their comrade. Javier was being taunted by the soldiers, they spat at him and lifted him by his hair to interrogate him, Arthur wasn’t sure what they were asking him but he knew it would be about them. It looked as though he’d been resisting, not flinching as they kicked him, his lack of emotion angering them more as one of them sloshed hot coffee over his back and extracting a harsh cry.

He was bound and being dragged along through the dirt by a donkey. Arthur shook his head. Dutch had a plan, an actual plan that did er on the side of danger and yet for the first time in quite some time Arthur found himself less reluctant to follow his orders. Dutch was a smart man, he had a knowledge of things that Arthur could only be in awe of, the man who’d show him how science works and teach him all about the miracles of the world around them. Trelawney was the magician but Dutch, he didn’t play tricks, he just knew so much about the environment around him and the materials at hand that he could control what they did.

He was doing it now, rushing around the refinery, opening valves and slashing bags of sugar. A sweet dust filling the air as Arthur hurriedly pulled the shutters down. Seeing Dutch grin wickedly as his scheme took wing gave him a giddy feeling. They quickly snuck out the door and shut it, swiftly sneaking away from the building as they giggled under their breath. All this reminded Arthur of the old guard, Hosea and Dutch used their skills always to the fullest, using appearances to gain a certain level of trust. Hosea always did most of the talking while Dutch’s slick moves got him into positions and places of advantage, picking every pocket as he went, Arthur would watch him as a teenager his mouth agape as he watched the serpentine man slither seductively into the trust of others.

Arthur had always felt unsure of his role. The teasing from the two older men and encouragement to brawl and shoot led him to become the ‘attack-dog’, growing into a large man who could protect them, at first he’d been defiant. If he was there to protect them then surely that meant he was expendable in their eyes, but Hosea helped him to trust them by teaching him, if he was just a bullet shield then why spend time helping him to make sense of letters and how to copy them himself with pencil and paper. Why would Dutch play him the classics and read him his favourite quotes, leaning over Arthur’s journal and shaking his head in wonder and the pretty drawings within the pages.

He’d grown up into a man with that confusion, only learning now what it all meant. He was convenient, all just an idea, albeit a nice one for most of their time together. He knew Hosea had loved him as a son but even he was a not against pushing him forward to the threats that faced the old guard. A sharp pang in his heart reminded him that he would not be there when they got back, if they would make it.

The refinery building suddenly transformed into smoking rubble, the soldiers who’d been bullying Javier left him to investigate, leaving them a short window to go and rescue him. His gunshot had been poorly treated and by the clamminess of his skin Arthur could tell that he needed medical attention and some food and water. 

“Can you run”

“No but I’m gonna’.” Javier winced as they ran low to the ground, desperately trying to get to the treeline. They made it not relinquishing the pace, a barrage of loud shouts and a few whistling bullets singing through the trees toward them had Arthur’s heart racing, Javier was struggling and he knew they’d be on them soon enough. Dutch was supporting Javier as they waded through the current as best they could, the spanish cursing getting louder and the sound of gunshot was fast approaching.

“Get ‘im outta’ here Dutch!” Arthur screamed, turning suddenly and crouching behind a large boulder. The two men were just struggling out of the water when the first soldiers broke through the trees, instantly pulling their guns up and pointing, but Arthur was faster. He dispatched them with his revolver, one headshot and one to the neck, both dead on the spot. No time to think on it as more came. Un-shouldering the repeater on his shoulder he fired rapidly at the onslaught of men, all running down the hill just to die on top of a pile of their own men.

The last few turning tale, Arthur only managing blow a hole in the leg of the first soldier who’d changed his mind. Taking the advantage, Arthur sprinted away, hoping that Dutch hadn’t just left Javier for dead somewhere. Relieved to find them both at their makeshift camp, the revolutionaries were gearing up, Hercule was handing out rifles to each available man. Hand-pressed bullets being piled into each man’s pockets and any bags they had on them. This kind of war was always the messiest. Desperate men kill so much more violently. Dutch was loading his pockets with bullets too, Javier as well, no one having any real choice in the matter. If this went well they would be on the first boat out of here and back to America.

Cinco Torres was indeed a fortess, they killed many men as they traversed round the winding steps and rocky walls. It was in their favour that Fussar’s men weren’t all trained soldiers, mostly locals who had the choice to be enslaved to Cornwall’s sugar plantations or to be the one’s who’d police them. The only main threat being pirates and escapees. Hercule and his men had more experience with this kind of takeover, they had more emotional drive, as did the Van Der Linde gang. This was their last chance.

Making it to the top of the of the fort, they pick off the incoming soldiers, taking full advantage of the castle’s defences. The long slug didn’t end there, as they’d exhausted the majority of their bullets and manpower another threat had appeared in the form of a Cuban Warship. Arthur cursed himself for not making sure to kill each and every one of the men at Aguasdulces. Retreating back to the top of the fort they manned the cannons. Arthur knew better then to let himself be excited at the prospect of the instant murder of hundreds of men, but his childhood brain got the better of him as he pulled the heavy weapon round to face the ship, using a trained eye to raise it just so. One of Hercule’s men loaded it and the ball-shot exploded out the cannon and into the front of the ship. The kick back took Arthur by surprise, sending him down onto the ground, the ship’s cannons firing back immediately as something black and round flew over his head and took the man helping him over the side of the fort with a yell.

“Shit!” Arthur, pulled himself back up, copying what he’d seen and loading up again. It took several tried before the ship began to collapse in on itself. A cheer rang out amongst those who’d survived, even Arthur raised a fist in the air, it felt good to enact some justice for once. Even Dutch caught up with him and slapped him fondly on the back, yelling in joy as they others whooped and sang.

 

As it had been when he first joined the group, Micah spoiled the mood with some bad news, at least it was relevant. It turned out the Fussar might have been a bit more prepared then they had given him credit for, gun batteries had been set up and cannons trained on the shoreline, he was ready for their escape. Word was that the ship they were supposed to leave on had been cordoned off by the military and the captain was being held for questioning.

Another few pocketful of bullets and they headed back to the fight. The men who’d fought at Cinco Torres joined them, a fierce new loyalty that fuelled Dutch more then most scores. Another hard push and a long trail of bodies left them clear to approach the buildings that supposedly the Captain was to be found. Hercule’s men began to loot the fallen as Dutch and the others split. Arthur made for the small stone holding with the blue door, opening it slowly and seeing a short, tanned man with a weathered face tied and gagged on the floor, he squirmed as Arthur approached him, cutting the rope that held his hands. A large weight knocking him over as he rolled and recovered himself, his rifle falling onto the ground, standing quickly and pulling his revolver from his waist and aimed it at the person of Levi Simon. The leader of the squad who’d genitally arrested them on the beach and beaten Javier. He pointed his gun back at Arthur, grinning like a maniac, until the click of another gun being raised. Dutch entered slowly with his pistol directed straight at the man’s skull.

“Pleasure to see you again Mr Simon.”

“I will kill your man, before you can even think about shooting me, drop the weapon now.”

The two men glaring at each other, Arthur thinking quickly and kicking the fallen rifle to the captain who quickly blew a hole into Levi’s face, splattered in blood and detris, the three men looked at each other a moment before Arthur leant and pulled up the shaken man. Shaking his hand and handing him Levi’s gun. Javier came rushing in to investigate the shot and glanced down at the dead man, swearing and spitting for closure.

They finally made it down to the beach, the men guarding the ship were long gone, the small crew who’d been held prisoner on the vessel shouted down at them with guns aimed. The captain stepped forward and called them off, finally, they were heading home.

 

They’d been on this nightmare island for only five days, Arthur hadn’t even had time to process the beating he took when he’d helped rescue people for Hercule. He hadn’t had a single moment to really collect himself the last couple of months. Nearly being strangled to death, nearly being tortured to death and only a couple of days ago he was nearly beaten to death.

Before the robbery the only peace he’d found was Charles. He was this lucky to survive all these near deaths, perhaps his good fortune would spread to Charles, save him and transport him to the others so he could keep them safe.

Frankly it was some kind of miracle that they’d gotten out of there. A second chance, Dutch had already started talks of a few last scores and then off to Tahiti or Australia, he said they were places like Guarma. Arthur had long decided that he wasn’t going anywhere. America was his home, specifically the West. He was also sure that the other’s might not be so inclined to follow their erratic leader who had only put them in harms way, time after time and his dangerous schemes even putting a child at risk.

Deciding not to think anymore, Arthur curled up on a hammock and let himself drift off. Initially reluctant for fear of another shipwreck but he was exhausted.

 

They made land at Van Horn, an old port town once a point of arrival for travellers and immigrants looking for work in the new world, now a derelict row of run-down shops and houses. Broken boats rotting away into the water. An old sheriff’s office and jail crumbling away with a big hole in the side, like a disturbing playhouse with vagrants in place of pretty wooden figures.

Arthur refrained from dropping and kissing the ground, partly on account of the sick and animal shit plastering the mud. Dutch decided to split up and look for the group so as not to draw too much attention, leaving Arthur to gather his bearings alone. He’d managed to replace his torn and rancid suit for a simple union suit and breeches he’d taken from a crew member, trading his Lancaster, hopefully someone from the gang had kept his things and his guns. First order of business was to visit Shady Belle.


	36. Chapter 36

He looked around and spotted a sturdy looking paint horse, it looked like a black horse had been dipped into white paint up to the shoulders, Arthur looked left and right. A man tumbled out of the two-bit saloon and bottled one of the other men, no one blinked and everyone carried on with their business, Arthur nodded and mounted the mare.

A little whinny of distrust was soon shushed as he clicked her on, pleasantly surprised by her speedy gait. He took her through the Murfree land, dodging through tall trees and thick foliage, breaking into a steady gallop as they got to the flatland of Lemoyne. Rushing past the Braithwaite manor, a charred mess at the end of a pretty canopy of trees, he kept the pace as raced down the road toward the manor he’d been living in not too long ago.

The first thing he noticed was the bodies, luckily not his friends or family. The gang must of left in a reasonable hurry as he found ammo, money and weapons on the corpses. He stepped into the house and pulled himself up the stairs, walking into the room he’d occupied. He searched to see if they’d left anything behind, dusting off the little wooden figurine he still hadn’t given to Jack yet, they’d forgotten his map. He thought to himself as his eye was drawn to a glimpse of paper underneath. A delicate scrawl over the rough sheet told him it was a woman’s hand.

“Dear Uncle Tacitus...” He chuckled aloud, eyes skimming through the letter and a sigh of relief. Concerned at the mention of ‘Grand-nieces’ and hoping that the others were in Lakay too. He knew it was Sadie from their hotel stay in Strawberry, she was smart that girl, he mused.

Arthur gave one last look at the weary house before pulling himself onto the stolen mare, foot heavy in the stirrup, he grunted as he seated himself. His belly rumbled and he hoped he’d find them soon. He’d taken his map with him and it seemed Lakay wasn’t too far, perhaps a little close for his liking, too close to Saint Denis. The horse kicked up a fuss as they got further into the swampland, the hissing of the alligators and scurrying movements of the lizards and snakes made for a jagged journey, having to slow down and shush the fearful beast.

It reminded him somewhat of Gilly, she’d taken a while to trust him and trust that he would take care of her, he hadn’t seen her amongst the dead and had high hopes that she’d be alive, if not better enough to ride again.

Lakay was unlike most little towns, the huts were on stilts and it was more ‘shanty’ then village. Suspicious faces peered through doors and wise, old women rocked in their chairs, staring blatantly as the strange white man rode slowly amongst the houses. He slowed the mare and looked around, he couldn’t see any of their wagons and wondered if maybe they’d moved on, a large man approached him and looked up. Silently he looked Arthur up and down before pointing a finger past a few of the huts sitting deeper in the mud.

Arthur nodded and carried on in the new direction and eventually saw the makings of a campfire and the wagons and their horses. 

“Well I’ll be damned!” A familiar twangy voice greeted him from a rather odorous, blue coat.

“Howdy, you must be my beautiful grand-niece!” Arthur teased, clasping his arms around Uncle, “I did hope you’d make it, in all seriousness, so what else of mine have you stolen lately?” They both grinned as a door to one of the wooden cottages opened and Abigail rushed out and flung herself at him, Jack close behind his mother wrapping his little arms round Arthur’s leg.  
“Woah, woah! Hello!” Arthur laughed as they all began to appear in the doorway, the young woman rushing at him dramatically as they were so inclined to do. Mary-Beth performing a relieved damsel as well as any actor and even Karen was smiling. As joyous as it was being reunited, he couldn’t help but scour the faces for Charles. Sadie lent in the doorway, arms folding and head shaking playfully.

“Mr Morgan, you’ve gotta’ be the luckiest man in America.” 

“I hardly think so Mrs Adler, you been taking care of these find folk?”

“I have indeed, Myself, Kieran and Mr Smith too.” She caught the rapid blinking as Arthur digested that last snippet, knowing the question was coming before it even left his lips.

“Where is he?”

“Out huntin’ no need ta’ worry.”

Arthur nodded and looked around, he noticed some clothing fuelling the fire and recognised Dutch’s embroidered vest, “The other’s hear?” His eyebrows drawn as he wondered where they could be.

Sadie twitched her head toward another hut, “In there with her royal highness.” 

As if on queue, Molly O’Shea flung open the door with enough emotion and stared out across the group viciously before storming through the mud, having to gather her skirts as she stomped through the sludge. Her delicate shoes getting trapped as she spat and swore. She could give Mary-Beth a good run-for-her-money with this perfomance.

Arthur rapped his knuckles on the door of the other building before stepping in to Micah and Dutch huddled like children telling secrets.

“...Just let him hang, so even if he’s innocent, one less mouth to-” Micah sat up suddenly and leered at Arthur. “Found us then Cowpoke?”

“Missed your faces in the welcome wagon.” Arthur retorted, “You talkin’ ‘bout John?”

Dutch rubbed his face with his hand, “Arthur this doesn’t concern yo-”

“But it concerns him?!” Arthur shouted back, regaining himself and saying in a lower tone, “Micah doesn’t know John, the rest of us do, he can’t make a decision like that.”

“Arthur I just need to-, listen son, we’ll get John when we’re ready-”

“Oh so we’re gonna’ leave a man an’ when it’s convenient, you’re gonna rescue him?”

“Cowpoke you-”

“You’d love that wouldn’t ya’?!” Arthur shouted pushing Micah by the shoulders, “Would be a cryin’ shame if he were to swing before you made your move.” His chest was heaving and his face felt hot. John had a lot to be sorry for, at one point he would of agreed with the decision, but that was no way for an outlaw to die.

“Enough Arthur, all you’ve done is question every decision I make, you’re like damn Hosea! Look where it got him!” Dutch yelled.

Arthur stood back and looked directly at him, “You gonna’ kill me Dutch, you gonna get confused an’ just strangle me to death-”

“Get out now!” Dutch pulled his pistol, spit falling from his mouth as his lips curled with rage.

Arthur raised his hands momentarily before turning his back to him, pausing just shy of the door, “You’re losing it old man.” He said clearly and then left to see curious faces round the fire helping themselves to food. Kieran and Javier had appeared and greeted him fondly, Kieran seemed slightly nervous but Arthur held that on the account of the shouting.

Bill had resumed his usual routine of drinking and wasting time with Uncle and apart from the mental breakdown ongoing in the other hut, it almost felt normal. Arthur grabbed himself a bowl of the curious stew and guzzled it eagerly, figure appeared in the foggy mist toward the rest of Lakay, as it got closer Arthur saw a man leading a horse.

It was Charles, he lead Taima up to the group and hitched her with the other horses before slinging a boar off her back and dropping it at the table by Pearson, only noticing Arthur as he turned to the fire.

“You found it.” He noted, voice calm and stoic as ever, but the fidget as he couldn’t resist embracing him told Arthur that nothing had changed. They held each other briefly and tightly, squeezing hard to make up for the shortness in the hug. Charles had shaved his long hair and left a long braid from the middle section of his hair, Arthur didn’t know much about native culture but felt this new look had meaning to it and he reminded himself to ask him later.

Charles pulled away from the hug and sat down, Arthur returning to his seat as he picked up his bowl to finish the stew. Charles’s hand reached out and stopped the spoon getting to Arthur’s mouth, turning and giving Kieran a fierce look, “You didn’t tell him did you?”

“Tell me what?” Arthur looked down at his bowl in horror, expecting to see an eyeball or two.

“It was...Gilly- she-she...” Kieran began but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Arthur spat behind him and slowly placed the bowl back down, “Are you tryin’ to tell me...that I’m eatin’ my own horse?”

“Well-y-you, I mean-, She-she-”

“Micah shot her.” Tilly answered for him, rubbing her hand on Kieran’s arm. “We had no other food, Charles couldn’t go because we needed protecting and...well, we didn’t really have a lot of options and Jack was hungry...”

Arthur nodded, he understood, perhaps it was for the best.

“Although,” Karen added, “Micah shot the horse because he could, not to feed us, we just took advantage of the situation.” She said shrugging.

Arthur looked to Charles and then to the others, “Why the hell would he do that?”

“She-she was well Arthur, I swear I did my best-”

“Calm down, I ain’t mad at any of ya’.” Arthur sighed deeply.

Karen looked at him with a frown, “Ain’t’cha’ gonna’ kick off or somethin’? Damn bastard jus’ shot your horse dead for no reason?”

“Micah will have his day, I’m tellin’ you that now, but first I need to think about gettin’ John back.”

 

After consoling Abigail and finding out all she knew and hearing about what had gone wrong with Hosea he felt assured that there was no concern in John’s loyalty, were their any doubt he would still rescue him, for Hosea and Lenny still needed to be avenged.

At that moment a torrent of men broke through the mist, armed to the teeth and at the front of it all stood Milton. He goaded Dutch from the line of men and gave the order to shoot and kill. The gunfire rang out as the gang, caught unawares frantically scrambled to safety. Abigail screaming as she shielded Jack and ran with him back into the building, Miss Grimshaw covering her and firing her double-barrelled shotgun at the men who ran at them. 

Arthur ducked behind the crates that had not too long been unloaded from the wagons, Charles ducking the table he’d pulled over and throwing his rifle at Arthur, a stupid move but necessary. Arthur pointed the nose of the gun over and peered quickly, aiming and taking out another agent. He’d lost Milton in the smoke and fire and reloaded again, repeating the same method and looking out at his people. Sadie, Bill, Javier, Charles and even Uncle were firing bullets out at the Pinkertons. 

A barrage of short bangs from behind him told him Karen and Miss Grimshaw were in the windows trying their best to protect Abigail and Jack and Tilly, who tried her darnedest to keep Abigail as calm as she could, gun drawn in case the attack pushed into the buildings.

Arthur couldn’t see Dutch or Micah, fucking cowards. He changed his position and ran to a small stone shed further toward the enemies, He found a repeater and a few bullets, peering round the thin wall before shooting straight into a man’s chest.

 

Arthur was getting tired of these long shoot-outs, a reflection he allowed himself as they ransacked the bodies of the dead agents, he was getting too tired of it all. It was becoming more dangerous. Luckily they were whole, they’d put on a good effort but now they were down must of their resources and again they had to pack up quickly. Miss Grimshaw starting the process almost by default and the others scrambled to help. Everyone armed and fully loaded as Bill and Javier kept an eye out.

Charles pulled Arthur towards the horses and fiddled with Taima’s saddle, pulling a familiar brown satchel from a hook and handing it to him. “I didn’t read your journal, although I did get Sadie to take some notes down about what went on while you were gone.”

Arthur beamed and nearly choked when Charles pulled his guns from the holsters on the mare, “I believe these are also yours?” They’d left most of the guns at the abandoned building so as not to look to shifty if they got caught.

“Charles, I-...You were a damn fool for what you did.” He quipped.

“Mm, I guess.” Charles shrugged.

“I missed you I hoped you’d be alright.”

“So did I, I had Tilly read the papers each morning to see if you’d all been caught and we read about the shipwreck...”

Arthur swallowed hard, the image of the dark corridor filled nearly to the ceiling with the cool seawater and the sounds of men screaming desperately ran through his mind, he nodded silently to himself. It wasn’t going to okay for a while.

Arthur looked up at Charles, his face honest and his blue eyes meeting the sympathetic browns. “I’ll be honest...I’ve never been more afraid in all 36 years of my life.”

Charles just nodded, he knew Arthur had dealt with a lot of shit these past few months and there were scars on scars. Glad of his honesty he placed a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll get out of here, all of us who need to, no more death.”

Arthur placed a hand over his, he knew it was all just words but it was a nice thought, “Sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True storytime, so Gilly was my Arthur's horse but she was a palomino, dapple, American Standardbred and I had stopped outside Emerald Ranch as the train was in the way. So I decided to get up and grab a snack when I sat back down the train started to go and it killed Gilly just like that. I was dead, I tell you.
> 
> So I was frickin' pissed y'all and I was wondering about the map when I found this dude just camping by a dry river (somewhere near the special coyote spot) and he was all "Fock off m8" so I shot him and took his splashed white American paint horse which was super cute when I replayed the game and got the horse early on and in the mission to rescue Sean in was all the cute little black and white horses together.
> 
> sorry


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING.
> 
> Some goriness, implied assault (not a main character)

TRIGGER WARNING SEE NOTES.

They needed to move, all their enemies were closing in and the fear of drowning returned to Arthur again. They couldn’t go any further East, that would be a fools errand, although it took some convincing to pull Dutch from that idea. North. Straight North. They’d left bloodstains wherever they went and each town was aware of the gang. The Pinkertons had covered such a wide area and they had no idea of the numbers they were up against.

So they would head to Murfree brood country, it would mean keeping more tight-knit than ever, the women would be hunted if the locals knew they were there. Arthur knew not to worry about Charles, he could take care of himself but he couldn’t help but feel Roanoke wasn’t the best place for him, mentally or otherwise. Charles, quite rightly so, got riled up easily by the genocide of Native Americans. The Murfree’s and other outcasts that made their homes here were racist sons-of-bitches.

Dutch had asked Arthur and Charles to scout the place for a new camp, Taima huffed at Arthur’s horse as they rode quickly and quietly up into the hills, missing her old friend and unsure her new companion. Arthur stared at Charles, all the emotion of not being able to say goodbye to him and nearly dying, pushing at his hard exterior. He felt like he wanted to scream out, or push his horse and go as fast as he could, an overwhelming sensation in him that felt like an imbalanced bubble of rage and joy. 

“You okay Arthur?” Charles said quietly, noticing the uncomfortable shift in his friend.

“I guess, I just don’t want to lose any of ya’ again like that, we should stick together now.”

“I don’t know if I agree,” Charles glanced at Arthur, “I know that look, hear me out. I think we should get John back and take him and the woman away from this.”

Arthur licked his teeth under his lip, “I didn’t know you liked John all that much?”

Charles shrugged as he often tended to do when asked sincere questions, “He’s decent man, never said anything I didn’t want to hear and better yet, didn’t really speak that much anyway. He could keep the others safe on a small holding.”

Arthur nodded, “Jack needs his Father too. What if we can’t get him out?”

Charles looked to him, Arthur was very different to the man he first met, his faith in Dutch had warped his view on rationality. Now Dutch had began to crumble, it seemed Arthur’s perspective was being put back into place, the idea that the gang was unstoppable was long faded from his mind and Charles could see it.

“If we don’t, if they kill him then I’m sure between Karen and Uncle they’d be alright, Jack will grow and then he’ll help.”

Arthur took off his hat and rubbed at the top of his neck, his fingers lightly scratching his head, “That’s if they stay together, I dunno Charles, I think it’s somethin’ we’d have to talk about as a group.”

“You think Dutch would let anyone leave?”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ he’d be participatin’ in that conversation...”

Charles opened his both to reply when they heard a cackle, followed by other voices giggling close by, pressing a finger to his mouth and quickly pulling Taima away. Arthur followed, aware that no matter how skilled they were these were not normal men and there was a whole horde of them. The woods made him very unsettled, between the Murfrees, the wildlife and the Nightfolk, there wasn’t much safety here. However there was an advantage to the untamed caves, no self-respecting Pinkerton would come up here, not without an army, a real army.

Charles had pulled them to the side of a river and looked around, they’d made it up to Butcher’s Creek, the people weren’t very welcoming and a few gathered as Charles dragged a small canoe down to the edge of the water. The man passed out amongst the other boats only grunted a small annoyance at being moved.

“What about the horses?”

Charles set the canoe down in the mud and looked at Taima who was being annoyed by Arthur’s mare. “She’ll follow, I’ll link their reigns.”

The canoe was slimy from moss and algae, the inside still damp and full of critters, but there wasn’t much else. They couldn’t go through the trees, it was too unsafe, they were safer further up.

Charles rowed them and Arthur kept his rifle trained on the bank, switching sides ever so often.

“Y’know if we weren’t trying to divert a path from a bunch of incest crazies to get away from the Pinkertons, this could have been romantic.” Charles joked sarcastically.

“In a funny mood Smith? I dunno, if malformed, inbred rednecks is your champagne and roses then I have not been paying enough attention.” Arthur chuckled.

Charles cocked his head and gave a wry smile, “The idea of fifteen fingers and webbed feet just does something to me.” 

Arthur just snorted and shaking his head, it was one of the things that he liked about Charles the most, growing up the way they did. On the road and seeing all the horrible things they’d seen and doing much worse themselves, took away barriers and thwarting their emotional response to the current situation. Arthur loved that they could almost snap out of the real world and into their own were no one was hunting them.

“I think if we pull up here and climb up from there.” Charles said pointing at a steep rockface. 

Arthur felt his body groan, he was definitely getting too old for this, he mused to himself.

Charles looked from him to the climb and then back to Arthur, “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you if I have to Old Man.”

Arthur kicked his boot and met the other man’s grin, “We’re aimin’ for a fallin’ out today Smith.”

 

It had been a tough climb but they made it to the top, crouching behind the boulders that scattered Beaver’s Hollow, they peeked around them. Both recoiling slightly at the flayed torso of what they assumed was a woman, the chest mutilated beyond recognition.

“Jesus Christ.” Arthur whispered, loading his gun up. He would kill them all.

“Some things are just naturally evil.” Charles proclaimed, un-shouldering his bow and looking and looking at Arthur’s poking out from behind his back. “I think we should go in as quiet as possible.”

They sat and watched as the men circled round, no one on guard but for the same reasons they were moving the camp out here, when you’re the top predator you gain a certain ignorance and a hubris. Convenient for them given the drastic ratio between them and the Murfrees.

They moved quickly, dispatching two at a time, Charles pulling another arrow and firing rapidly at the third just as he turned. Not stopping they breached the caves, a cacophony of disturbing sounds blurred their attempts to map and locate the others. Following the main tunnel down and splitting as it separated. Another one down, a load grunting came from behind the cave wall. Arthur took deep breath, not sure what he was going to see, turning suddenly and coming across a man repeatedly bludgeoning an obviously, dead man.

Stunned momentarily by the shocking behaviour, he paused on the shot and missed, the crazed creature turning, blood covering his face and torso. Thick and congealed and darkened from where it’d dried. The man had died some time ago. His mouth spread to a terrifying grin as he raised the barbed bat and charged at Arthur with a howl.

Bowling into his Arthur struggled with the bow and dropped it, nothing he could do at this close range except desperately try and push the man off who’d jolted forward, what few teeth he had were sharpened and lurching at his neck. Arthur scrabbled against the man’s skinny frame, despite proper nourishment he was strong and had the up on Arthur who’s hands pushed against his chest and pushed him off.

The man laughed maniacally and ran again in frenzy, Arthur pulled at the button on his gun holster, his hands slick with the other man’s sweat and the blood from the faceless corpse on the floor. Arthur made a desperate sound as his revolver slipped in his fingers, finally getting it free and shooting just as the man got face-to-face with him, his chest heaving as the evil, toothless grin slacked and the blown pupils dulled. The body dropping to the floor, a leaking hole in his neck.

Charles came flying round the wall, looked at him and then disappeared back round, the voices deep within the cave were roaring in excitement as the Murfrees scurried through the tunnels looking for them. They mostly carried meelee weapons but attacked with such velocity and recklessness that it made them seem far more dangerous then any blue-jacket or Pinkerton.

The tunnels lead them to a large space with a caged girl at the back, they carefully shot at the rest of the men, in case there were other captives. When the shooting all stopped Arthur dropped onto his knees and placed his forearms on the dirt and breathed. Charles ran straight to the cage and started to reassure the girl who at a closer distance was far younger then he’d expected. He saw a couple of other cages and the bodies of other women, most undressed and some missing limbs.

“Stand back.” He said gently, shooting the lock off as she cried and shook in a flimsy nightdress.  
Arthur joined them and Charles nodded at him, “It’s okay miss, we ain’t gonna’ hurt’cha’, I know you probably don’t believe that but I promise that’s the case.”

She trembled and glanced through her fingers and all the dead people in the room and hid her face again.

“We came here to see if it was a safe place to hide our family.” Charles explained, trying to assure her.

“It’s true, we’re runnin’ from some bad men an’ need to keep our women safe and there’s a kid too, but first we need to get you outta’ here, we had to take these men out. They’re not safe.”

“H-h-how d-d-do I believe y-y-you.., they-they said tt-the s-s-same- th-they weren’t gonna’ h-hurt me.” 

Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out the little dog figurine he’d been saving for jack. “This is for my nephew, the little boy we’re bringin’ up here. Here take it see.”

He reached forward as she cowered, he kept his arm out as she uncurled and tentatively took the toy and examined it. “Y-you p-p-promise?”

“Sure sweetheart, let us take you home.”

“A-Annesburg.” She stepped forward, “Th-that’s where I-I live.”

They led her carefully out the caves, crying at each body she passed, they took her down the hill to the horses.

“You go Arthur, we need to move the others quickly.”

“Be safe.”

 

The girl chose to sit behind Arthur, holding onto his shirt but not letting their bodies press anymore then necessary. Arthur rode his mare gently, aware of the bruises on the young girl and the torn nightdress, he hummed quietly. Not wanting silence but knowing not to talk.

“I never seen a horse like yours.” She said, the toy dog still clutched in her hand, it was a little young for her but it seemed to giver her some comfort. Some hope that Arthur was a good man.

“She’s funny lookin’ ain’t she.” He said with a smile. “Like God dipped her in white paint before droppin’ her down here.”

“Mm.” A bump in the track made her clutch onto Arthur’s waist, she paused before leaning her head on his back, letting her eyes close. “Black an’ white like a little domino.”

“Yeah I guess,” He replied fondly, “You play?”

He got no response, perhaps it was better this way, he’d wake her when they got there.


End file.
